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REFLECTIONS 

UPON 

THEATRICAL  EXPRESSION 

I    N 

T  RA  G  E  DT. 

With  a  proper 

INTRODUCTION, 

AND 

APPENDIX. 


Da  fapere  G?  fart. 

Tacere  qui  nefcit,  nefcit  loqui. 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  W.  Johnston,   at  the  Golden- 
Ball,  in  St.  Paul*s  Church-yard.     Mdcclv, 


;g£  &  jj£  jgp  a£  -^  j&  *■  3p£  .*.  5P  >*-  j»v  3£  j*.  ?&)  *-  jj<i.  ^«>.  j*» 


THE 


INTRODUCTION. 


HE  Public  of  all  Countries 
where  Theatres  are  eftablifhed 
agree  in  the  Opinion,  that  the 
Profejfion  of  an  ABor  is  low 
and  conte?nptible  ;  and  the  Laws  of  fome 
States  regard  it  in  a  Light  ftill  more  fe- 
vere.  It  muft,  indeed,  be  owned,  that 
the  private  Character  of  many  who  have 
trod  the  Stage  has  been  intolerable  :  The 
Public  have  refented  it ;  and,  rinding  the 
Cafe  too  common,  threw,  at  laft,  their 
Load  of  Refentment  upon  the  Profejjion 
itfelf. 

Inftances,  however,  are  producible,  that 
Female,  as  well  as  Male  Virtue,  Difcre- 
tion,  Probity  and  Honour  have  really  ex- 
ifted  in  Theatres ;  but,  the  Number  be- 
ing,   comparatively,  fmall,  the  VrojeJJion 

B  ftill 


835308 


[»] 

flill  lies  under  Public  Scandal.  This,  I 
think,  is  going  too  far:  I  believe,  that 
this  unfavourable  Opinion  of  the  Profejjion, 
not  the  evil  Tendency  of  the  ProfcJJion  it- 
felf,  ha:,  from  their  firil  Eftablifhment, 
filled  the  Tiieatres  with  fo  many  had  Men  ; 
I  am  fure  it  has  with  bad  Aclors. 

Is  it  to  be  thought,  that  People  of  Edu- 
cation and  Honour  will  croud  into  a  Pro- 
feffion  which  the  World  has  fligmatized, 
if  they  had  any  Profpect  in  more  re- 
putable Life  ?  No ,  furely :  Necef- 
lity,  the  feverefr.  Neceflity  mull:  compel 
them  to  fubmit  to  it.  The  Number  of 
fuch  mufl  therefore  be  very  fmall  ;  and 
yet,  out  of  the/e,  I  judge,  our  beji  Actors 
are  to  be  expected.  Men  of  a  Stamp  dif- 
ferent from  the  above,  by  the  Liberties 
and  Profits  of  a  Theatrical  Life,  are 
bronzed  againfl  the  Opinion  of  the  World  j 
and,  thus,  the  Stage  becomes  the  favou- 
rite Afylum  of  Numbers,  whofe  private 
Characters  will  bear  no  Inquiry. 

But  the  Point,  I  prefume,  may  be  car- 
ried further.  Is  it  not,  in  Confequence, 
owing  to  this  public  Prejudice  againfl  the 

ProfeJ/ion, 


[3  J 

Profejion,  that  the  Theatres,  of  all  Coun- 
tries, have  as  few  good  Aclors  as  they  have 
good  Men  ?  I  fay  in  Confequence,  becaufe  I 
am  fingular  enough  to  think  that  there  is 
a  ftrong  Connection  between  Moral  and 
Theatrical  Excellence. 

It  would,  I  confefs,  be  going  too  far, 
were  it  faid,  that  a  virtuous  character  can- 
not be  tolerably  reprefented  by  an  Actor 
of  no  Virtue  :  But,  if,  as,  I  fuppofe,  every 
one  allows,  the  Delicacy  of  Theatrical '  Ex- 
frejjion  can  never  be  expected  from  an  Ac- 
tor that  does  not  feel  his  Part,  it  may  not 
be  unreafonable  to  imagine,  that  a  Man 
of  Education  and  Morals  bids  fairer  for 
Theatrical  Excellence^  than  one,  defective 
in  both  or  either  of  thefe. 

For  Inftance  :  Let  Jaffier  be  the 
Character  to  be  reprefented.  One  of 
Jaffier's  principal  Charafteriftics  is  con- 
jugal Tendemefs,  and  the  moil  exquiiite 
Senfibility  of  the  Diftrefs  his  beloved 
Wife  muit  fuffer,  under  the  Ruin  of  his 
Fortune.  Let  us  fuppofe  him,  after  hav- 
ing heard  from  Pierre,  the  Havock 
that  had  been  made  at  the  Seizure  of  his 

B  2  ErTeds, 


[  4  ] 

Effects,    liftening   to   this   bitter  Aggra- 
vation : 

"  The  very  Bed,  which  on  thy  wedding  Night 
"  Receiv'd  thee  to  the  Arms  of  Belvedera  ; 
"  The  Scene  of  all  thy  Joys  was  violated 
"  By  the  coarfe  Hands  of  filthy  Dungeon  Villains. 
"  And  thrown  amongft  the  Common  Lumber. — 

Venice  Preferv'd. 

How  would  a  Man,  infenfible  to  the 
Delicacy  of  an  Union  of  the  Sexes,  found- 
ed upon  mutual  Merit ;  unmoved  at  the 
Diftreffes   of  thofe  about  him,  and  care- 
lefs  of  every  Thing  but  his  own  Plea- 
fures ;  how  would  fuch  a  Man  fill  up  his 
Paufe  of    Silence?    Why,   probably,  by 
fumbling  in  his  Pockets,  a  fhrug  or  two 
of  the  Shoulders,  or  ftareing   round  the 
Houfe,  'till  the  Catch- Word  inform  him 
'tis  his  Turn  to  open  his  Mouth  :  Or,  fup- 
pofe  him  fo  much  Mailer  of  Fiction,  as 
to  give  feme  ExpreJJion  of  what  he  ought 
to  feel;  can  it  beyi?  animated,  fo  like  to 
what  zfenfible  Heart  difcovers  itfelf  by  on 
fuch  an  Occaiion,  as  when  the  perforating 
Jaffier  is  a  Man  of  fuch  a  Turn  of 
Mind,  as  to  want  nothing,  but  an  Iden- 
tity 


[5  3 

tity  of  Circumjlances,  to  make  him  Jaf- 
fier  himfelf?  His  Feet,  his  Hands,  his 
Eyes,  his  Face,  his  every  Attitude,  would, 
all,  be  full  of  Exprejjion,  and  give  Elo- 
quence to  Silence. 

How,  then,  would  fuch  a  Jaffier 
breathe  out  the  TendernefTes  of  a  Paffion 
to  which  his  natural  Generofity  makes 
him  no  Stranger !  How  would  this  fond 
Addrefs  to  the  imaginary  Belvidera 
come  forth,  with  a  Management  that  gives 
a  natural  Reality  to  Poetical  FicJion  ! 

"  Canft  thou  bear  Cold  and  Hunger  ?  Can  thefe 
"  Fram'd  for  the  tender  Offices  of  Love    [Limbs, 
"  Endure  the  bitter  Gripes  of  fmarting  Poverty  I 
"  When  banifh'd  by  our  Miferies  abroad, 
"  (As  fuddenly  we  lhall  be)  to  feek  our  Refuge 
**  In  fome  fair  Climate,  where  our  Names  are 

"  Strangers, 
"  For  charitable  Succour  ;  wil't  thou  then, 
"  When  in  a  Bed  of  Straw  we  fhrink  together, 
"  And  the  bleak  Winds  fhall  whittle  round  our 

"  Heads  j 
"  Wil't  thou  then  talk  thus  to  me  ?  Wilt  thou  then 
"  Hufh  my  Cares  thus,  and  fhelter  me  with  Love? 

Ibid. 

I  do  not  think  it  in  the  Power  of  a 
Churl,  a  Libertine,  a  Man  of  Vague  and 

trifling 


C( 

cc 


f  6  ] 

trifling  Ideas,  to  give  thefe  Lines  their  due 
ExpreJJion,  be  his  Art  at  Imitation  ever  fo 
great:  Play  the  Part  he  may,  but  not 
Ac!  it. 

But,  tc  admitting  this  to  be  true,  (will 
"  fome  fay)  how  will  it  raife  the  Projef- 
tl  Jion  in  general  from  public  Obloquy  ? 
tc  The  Laws  of  the  Drama  make  it  ne- 
"  cerTary  to  introduce  vicious,  as  well  as 
"  virtuous  Characters :  If,  then,  to  per- 
form his  Part  the  A&or  muft  feel  it, 
the  Stage  mufl  have  its  Villains,  and 
Vice  mufl  be  infeparable  from  the  Pro- 
"  feJji°n'y     I  hope,  I  think  otherwife. 

Perhaps,  it  may  be  found,  that  a  Man 
of  Probity  may  perfoliate,  and  with  de- 
ferved  Applaufe,  a  Character  which,  in 
real  Life,  his  Soul  detefts.  'Tis  much 
eafier  for  a  Man  of  Senfe  to  play  the  Fool, 
upon  Occafion,  than  for  a  Fool,  at  any 
Time,  to  go  through  with  the  Character 
of  a  Man  of  Senfe.  A  Woman  of  Gaiety, 
founded  upon  Innocence,  will  come  much 
nearer,  in  Appearance,  to  the  criminal 
Part  of  her  Sex,  than  they  can  to  the 
Semblance  of  her  natural  Modefly. 

An 


[7] 

An  Actor  of  Parts,  whofe  private  Cha- 
racter itands  well  with  the  Public,  has 
none  of  that  Abaflment  which  neceilari- 
ly  accompanies  confcious  Vice  j  and  will, 
of  Courfe,  be  prompted  to  throw  out  his 
Art,  as  an  Actor,  when  he  is  affured  that 
his  Audience  believes  his  Villany  to  be 
merely  perjonated.  Nay  !  the  Audience 
themfelves,  knowing  their  Man,  will 
give  Applaufe  to  the  Attor^  though  they 
deteft  the  Villain  he  reprefents.  . 

On  the  Reverfe,  the  bad  Man,  known 
to  be  fuch,  be  his  acting  Capacities  ever 
fo  great,  cannot  avoid  the  interrupting 
Thought,  that  his  Audience  confider  him 
merely  as  an  ABor,  and  hold  a  moft  ab- 
folute  Contempt  for  him  in  all  other 
Lights.  Befides  j  his  Freedom  in  imita- 
ting a  virtuous  Part  will  be  much  leffen- 
ed,  by  his  confidering  that  his  Applaufe 
muft  be,  in  a  Manner,  extorted,  and  that 
his  Audience  will  be  the  more  critical  up- 
on his  Action,  as  they  are  fenfible  he  is  in 
a  Character  much  juperior  to  his  real 
one. 

If 


[  8] 

If  this  be  Fact,  all  Characters  in  the 

Drama  may  be  kept  up,  and  the  Profef- 

fion  of  the  Actor  in  a  perJo?iated  Knave  be 

preferved  from  Contempt,  by  the  eftablifh- 

ed  private  good  Character  of  the  Man. 

May  we  now,  then,  venture  to  repeat, 
that,  if  the  public  Obloquy  thrown  upon 
the  ProfeJJion  of  an  Actor,  has  a  tendency 
to  deprive  the  Stage  of  Men  who  have  the 
moll:  folid  Accomplimments,  and,  at  the 
fame  Time,  is  not  of  Force  enough  to 
keep  off  People  of  another  Call:  j  can  we 
ever  expect  to  fee  in  full  Delicacy  and  Per- 
Jefiion,  the  moft  rational  'Entertainment 
that  can  be  offered  to  the  Human  Mind  f 

I'm  a  Man  of  no  Connection  with  any 
Theatre,  but  a  frequent  Attender  upon 
our  own  ;  which  I  could  wifh  to  fee  raifed 
above  all  Degree  of  Cenfiire  This  inclines 
me  to  offer  a  few  Reflections  upon  Thea- 
trical Expression  in  Tragedy  : 
Not  that  I  think  myfelf  qualified  to  direct 
public  Tafte  ;  my  Attempt  will  be,  mere- 
ly, to  mew,  that  a  Mailer  of  Theatrical 
ExpreJJion>  in  all  its  extenfive  Significancy, 
mult  be  polfefs'd  of  fuch  Accomplim- 
ments, 


[9l 

ments,  as  to  fet  the  Projejfion  above  all 
Contempt. 

An  Attempt,  I  confefs,  utterly  neealefs, 
were  all  who  frequent  the  Theatres  ap- 
prifed,  how  much  complicated  Merit  is 
neceffary  to  make  a  Garrick. 

It  will,  here,  be  proper  to  obferve,  that 
the  End  propofed  in  a  regular  Tragedy, 
is  to  injinuate  moral  Inftruclion  and  Im- 
provement to  our  Minds  and  Hearts,  by  a 
well  directed  Application  to  our  Passions  ; 
efpecially  thofe  of  Refentment,  Pity, 
and  Terror.  In  this,  chiefly,  does  it 
differ  from  Comedy  ;  with  which  we  have, 
now,  nothing  to  do. 

The  Poet  fixes  upon  a  proper  Subject ; 
lays  his  Plan  ,  or,  as  he  commonly  calls 
it,  his  Plot  j  upon  which,  his  Succefs,  as 
a  Dramatic  Poet,  greatly  depends.  He 
moves  our  Attention ,  excites  our  Curioji- 
tyy  throws  in  Obftacles  to  keep  us  in 
Sujpence ,  at  the  fame  Time,  having  Co 
judicioufly  brought  us  to  be  interefted  in 
the  Characters  he  produces,  our  Refent- 
ment  rifes  at  the  Villain  j  our  Pity  weeps 

C  for 


[  io] 

for  the  Diftrefs'd  j  and  our  Terror,  ag- 
gravated by  the  Uncertainty  of  what  will 
become  of  our  afflicted  Favourites,  excites 
an  agreeable  Anxiety,  which  a  fenfible 
Mind  cannot  fail  to  profit  by.  At  laft, 
the  Cataftrophe  difmifies  our  Attention, 
with  a  full  Perfuafion,  that  unaffected 
Goodness  is  the  greatest  Accom- 
plishment of  Man. 

Under  fuch  Rules,  let  us  fuppofe  the 
Tragedy  compleat  in  Unities,  Manners, 
Sentiments,  and  Diftion.  What  does  it 
then  want  to  produce  its  intended  Effect  ? 
Action  :  The  Poet  can  affect  us  no  far- 
ther than  the  Ear  j  the  Affior  mull  give  it 
Life  to  affect  the  Eye :  Then  it  is,  we 
feel  the  combined  Effects  of  the  Poet's 
Judgment  to  addrefs  the  Pajfions,  and  the 
AElors  to  excite  them. 

Can  this  be  done  by  Men  contemptible  ? 
Can  thofe  whom  Brothels  and  Gaming- 
Tables  have  fpew'd  forth,  do  Juftice  to  a 
Shakefpeare,  an  Otway,  an  Addifon,  or, 
not  to  be  particular,  (for  we  mean  no  Af- 
front) to  any  accurate  Writer  of  Tragedy 

for 


[ » ] 

for  any  Stage  ?  No,  furely.  No  Man  can 
be  Mafter  of  Theatrical  Exprejjion,  unlefs 
he  can  perceive,  and  that  accurately,  how 
Nature  draws  over  the  fever al  human  Paf- 
Jions.  This  requires  Genius,  Education, 
Read i jig,  Experience ;  and,  in  Tragedy,  a 
Solidity  of  Thought,  which  never  accom- 
panies abjctt  Morals, 

I  perceive  that  I  have  mentioned  Ex- 
perience  as  a  neceffary  Fitnefs  for  Theatri- 
cal Exprejjion  in  Tragedy  :  I  do  not  re- 
call it. 

Our  perfonal  and  ordinary  Connections 
with  the  World,  cannot  fail  to  bring  the 
capital  Pailions  of  the  human  Mind  fre- 
quently before  us.  Now,  no  Man,  who 
cannot  animadvert  upon  fuch  Occurrences, 
fo  as  to  fee  what  is  ajf'ecled,  and  what  is 
real,  can  (with  due  Submiihon)  ever 
make  a  jujl  Actor.  But,  if  he  takes  his 
Diftinction  right,  and,  from  feeing  ge- 
nuine Nature,  be  the  Pajjion  what  it  will, 
feel  %.  Counter-part  in  himfelfj  that  Man 
has  the  Jirjl  Accomplishment  towards 
Theatrical  Exprejjion. 

C    2  It 


[     >2    3 

It  was  Demojlhenes,  I  think,  whom  a 
Client  applied  to,  to  appear  for  him  in 
Court,  in  an  Action  for  Damages.  The 
Fellow  told  his  piteous  Relation  with  fo 
much  Apathy,  that  the  Orator  conceived 
he  mould  get  no  Credit  by  the  Caufe. 
Matter,  as  he  was,  of  the  human  Paf- 
Jions,  he  coolly  told  his  Client,  "  That 
"  the  Abufes  he  complained  of  were  but 
«  trivial :  "  "  How,  Sir,"  faid  the  Cli- 
ent,   "  trivial  ?    Sir,    is    it   trivial  to  be 

"  treated  fo  and  fo  ? Is  it  trivial  to 

"  have ?  Give  me  Patience!  Sir!  Sir  ! 

"All  this  trivial?  trivial,  Sir!"  That 
great  Man  had,  now,  all  he  wanted 
to  induce  him  to  efpoufe  his  Client's 
Caufe.     He  faw  that  the  Complaint  was 

juji,  becaufe  his  Client's  Refentment  was 
real. 

A  Man  that  cannot  trace  the  human 

Pajfions  like  a  Demoflhenes,  will  never  get 

a  Reputation  from  the   Stage.     He  that 

can  do  fo,  and,  upon  Call,  exprefs  them 

as  he  finds  Nature  does,  ought  not  to  be 

thought  meanly  of  for  being  upon  it. 

But 


[  '3  ] 

But  this  is  not  all :  We  are  further  to 
confider,  that  no  Man  can  be  Majier  of 
Theatrical  Expression,  unlefs  he  can 
critically  diftinguijh  and  prejerve  the  fpe- 
cific  Difference  of  Characters. 

In  all  well-written  Plays,  the  Charac- 
ter of  each  Perfon  in  the  Drama  isjlrong- 
ly  marked  with  fome  Peculiarity,  which 
renders  it  Jpecific  and  perfonaL  This  the 
Poet  is  under  Laws  to  keep  up  to,  thro' 
every  Circumftance  into  which  he  thinks 
fit  to  fhew  the  Perfon  fo  char  act erifed. 

Thefe  Character ijiics  arife  from  the 
Temper,  Quality,  Imployment,  Age,  Coun- 
try, and  Religion,  which  he  would  have 
us  fuppofe  the  Perfon  he  introduces  to  be 
of  j  and,  of  Courfe,  the  Poet's  Senti- 
ment sy  Manners  and  Diction,  muft  be 
fpecifically  accommodated  to  this  very  Per- 
fon j  and  that,  through  the  whole  Cha- 
racter. 

All  this  the  Actor  muft  Jee  through ; 
he  muft  accurately  fall  in  with  the  Inten- 
tion of  the  Poet  ;  or  he  can  never  give 

the 


[  14  ] 

the  Character  he  aflumes  Theatrical  Ex- 

preffion. 

An  Inftance  may  make  our  Meaning 
plainer  :  Be  it  the  Character  of  Cato. 

We  find  him  a  Man  of  even  Tempers  j 
of  Quality  ;  imploy'd  at  the  Head  of  the 
Oppofition  to  Cafar ;  a  Man  in  Years-, 
by  his  Country,  which  he  objlinately  lovd, 
a  Roman-,  In  Principle,  a  Stoic.  Mr. 
Addifon  would  have  finned  beyond  all 
Poetical  Forgivenefs,  had  he  loft  Sight  of 
any  one  of  thefe  Characlerijlics,  in  any  one 
Circumftance  in  which  he  places  his 
Cato.  His  Cato  muft  think  and  /peak, 
like  Cato  ;  refent,  like  Cato  ;  grieve, 
like  Cato;  bear  Dijlrejs,  like  Cato  ; 
and  die,  like  Cato. 

With  as  much  Minutenefs,  muft  each 
of  thefe  Particulars  be  obfervd  and  kept 
up  to  by  that  ABor,  who  would  give 
Theatrical  ExpreJ/ion  to  the  Cato  of 
Addi/on.  In  Voice,  Manner,  Gefture,  and 
Attitude,  he  muft  ever  be  the  Cato 
of  Addifon  3  and,  for   the  Time,  totally 

forget 


[  i5] 

forget  he  is  any  Thing  elfe,  or  has  any 
other  Connection. 

Can  we  then,  in  Juflice,  think  con- 
temptibly of  a  ProfeJ/ion,  which  requires 
fuch  various,  yet  #«/Yft/Accomplifhments! 
Or  can  it  be  conceived,  that  a  Man  of 
mean  Education,  low  Ideas,  and  abandon  d 
Principles,  can  pafs  upon  us,  through  a 
Jingle  Speech,  for  the  Cato  of  Rome  and 
Addijon  ! 


Theatrical 


:  n 


i  ■ 


O   F 


Theatrical    Expreflion 

I    N 

TRAGEDY. 


SECT.     I. 

Theatrical  Expression  in  Tragedy 
defined ^  in  general. 

Heatrical  Expression 
is  of  extenfive  Import.  It  does 
SPSS?  not  imply  Elocution  only,  or 
the  Delivery  of  an  Actor's 
Part,  by  Speech ;  but  comprifes,  alfo, 
every  Attitude  of  every  Member  of  the  Hu- 
man Fabrick,  as  they  are  naturally  put  in 
Motion  by  the  federal  Workings  of  the 
Mind. 


T 


D 


Mind 


1 18] 

The  Mind  has  more  Ways  to  exprefsit- 
felf  by,  than  Speech-,  and,  under fomelm- 
preffions,  moft  emphatically  indicates  itfelf 
by  abfolute  Silence.  She  commands  the 
Feet,  the  Hands,  the  Head,  the  Face,  the 
Eyes,  to  communicate  her  Emotions,  and 
that  by  Attitudes  and  Movements  as  vari- 
ous as  thofe  Emotions,  and  particularly  a- 
dapted  to  exprefs  each  of  them. 

Theatrical  Expression,  then,  im- 
plies c<  an  Exhibition  upon  the  Stage,  in 
"  perfonated  Characters,  an  exact  and  ac- 
"  curate  Imitation  of  Nature  in  real  ones ; 
cc  and,  when  confined  to  tragedy,  the 
"  Imitation  of  fuch  real  Characters  as 
"  can  be  perfonated  within  the  Rules 
"  of  that  Part  of  the  Drama ;  including 
"  a  Ariel:  Propriety  in  the  adventitious 
"  AlTiftances  of  Drefs  and  Scenery" 


SECT. 


[  19] 


SECT.     II. 

Of  Accomplishments,  perfonal  and  ac- 
quired, which  are  requilite  in  a  Mas- 
ter of  Theatrical  Expression  in 
Tragedy. 

\  S  the  Characters  in  Tragedy  are 
-^  *•  generally  laid  in  high,  or,  at  leaft, 
genteel  Life,  the  Figure  of  an  Adtor  is  of 
no  fmall  Moment.     His  Voice  mull  be 
tuneable,  if  not  melodious,  and  his  Ear 
not  infenfible  of  Cadence  and  Harmony. 
His  Memory  muft  be  ftrong  and  retentive, 
and  furnifhed    with   Ideas    of  what    is 
pleating,  great  and  good. — Dancing  muft 
direct  him   in  the   Management  of  his 
Feet ;  Fencing,  in  that  of  the  Hands  ;  and 
both  together  give  Eafe  and  Gracefulnefs 
to  every  Motion  of  Feet,   Hands,  Head, 
and  the    whole   Body.  —  Good   Senfe  and 
right  Principles,  improv'd  by  Reading  and 
Objervation,  if  not  Learning,  muft  fpread 
Meaning  into  every  Feature,  and  give  Jen* 
timental  Expreflion  to  that  great  Index  of 

D  2  the 


[  ae] 

the  Soul,  the  Eye. — He  muft  fee  fo  clofely 
into  Nature,  as  to  know  under  what 
Pafiions,  and  when,  under  fuch  Pafftons, 
Nature  relieves  herfelf  by  Si  knee  :  With- 
out this,  his  ExprcJJion  will  want,  one  of 
its  greateft  Beauties ,  artificial  Paufes, 
which,  when  judicioufly  thrown  in,  af- 
fect us  more,  than  any  Thing  the  Poet 
can  fay  upon  the  Occafion. — His  Atten- 
tion to  what  paries  among  the  other  Cha- 
racters connected  with  him  in  the  fame 
Drama,  mufr.  be  conducted  with  equal 
Senfibility.  He  mufl  be  a  thorough  Judge, 
at  what  Words  and  Geftures  in  others,  the 
feveral  PaJJions  take  firey  or  cool  in  our 
own  Breafr,  and  animate,  by  proper  Evi- 
dences of  his  feeling  this,  the  attentive  Si- 
lence he  is  obliged  to  keep  while  addreffed 
to  by  the  other  Actors.— Some  Know- 
ledge of  polite  Life,  and  the  Modes  of  Ha- 
biliment in  different  Countries,  mull  direct 
his  Ta/ie  in  Drefs  : — And,  tho'  no  Con- 
noineur  in  Painting,  the  keeping  and  per- 
JpecJive  Part  of  it  he  ought  not  to  be  at  a 
Lofs  in  judging  of,  especially  if  the  Scenery 
falls  within  his  Province. — With  all  thefe 

Accom- 


[    21    ] 

Accomplishments  the  Actor  is  not  yet 
compleat  for  Theatrical  Expreffon,  unlefs 
his  Invention,  under  their  Direction,  give 
Variety  to  his  Manner  of  Acting  j  not  in 
different  Parts  only,  but  in  one  and  the 
Jame  ac  different  Times.  An  Excellence 
how  rarely  to  be  met  with !  How  diffi- 
cult to  attain  !  —  To  conclude ;  a  manly 
Compofure,  mixt  with  a  refpeclful  ModeJlyy 
muft  keep  him  from  difcovering,  and,  if 
poflible,  feeling  too  great  Emotion  at  the 
Cenfure  and  Applanfe  of  the  Audience. 
Otherwife  he  derogates  from  his  Thea- 
trical Character,  and  will  neceilarily^/fo/fc 
in  his  Exprejjion. 

Thefe,  or  nearly  fuch  Accomplishments 
as  thefe,  muft.  unite  to  constitute  a  Maf- 
ter  in  Theatrical  Expression.  A 
diftinct  Confideration  of  each  will  (hew 
the  Neceffity  of  them  all 


SECT. 


[22    ] 

« 

SECT.     III. 

O/FlGURE. 

Hp  HO'  a  Defect  in  this  can  by  no 
-*-  Means  be  laid  to  the  Charge  of  any 
Man,  yet  the  Aftor,  who  will  venture  to 
prefent  himfelf  in  Tragedy  with  a  Fi- 
gure remarkably  defective,  is  not  entirely 
undeferving  of  Cenfure.  In  Comedy,  in- 
deed, there  are  feveral  Parts  whofe  Hu- 
mour is  greatly  heightened  by  the  Oddities 
in  an  Actor's  Perfon  ;  but  in  Tragedy  'tis 
quite  the  Reverfe.  How  would  the  face- 
tious Penkethmam,  whofe  Face  was  a 
more  Laughter — moving  Jeft,  than  moft 
of  thofe  he  was  to  fpeak,  have  appeared  in 
the  grave,  folemn,  mournful  Bujkin?  We 
all  know  how  unaccountably  impreffive 
the  Figure  and  Addre/s  of  fome  People  is, 
at  firft  Sight,  either  in  their  Favour,  or 
othcrwife ;  and  that  Grandeur,  Beauty, 
Eaie,  and  Elegance,  Male  as  well  as  Fe- 
male, irrefiftably  attaches  us  to  the  hap- 
py Pofleflors  of  fuch  Accomplifhments. 
How  material,  then,  this  mull  be  to  an 

Actor, 


[  23  ] 

Actor,  may  eafily  be  imagined;  'twill 
either  conceal,  or  atone  for,  fome  Inac- 
curacies  that  may  efcape  him,  and  ferve 
to  heighten  his  other  Perfections. 

'Tis  true,  indeed,  that  the  real  Figures 
of  many  of  thofe  illuftrious  Perfonages, 
whofe  Characters  Tragedy  revives  up- 
on the  Stage,  were  very  far  from  being 
equal  in  Grace  and  Dignity  to  their  Souls  j 
but  becaufe  Alexander  had  his  Neck  dis- 
torted, muft  the  Neck  of  his  Theatrical 
Reprefentative  be  disfigured  into  the  fame 
Pofition  ?  Tragedy,  like  Painting, 
muft  mew  us  Nature;  but  under  as 
much  Advantage  as  fhe  will  properly  ad- 
mit of. 

SECT.    IV. 

Of  V  O  I  C  E. 

FLOCUTIONisa  principal  Mode 
*-**  of  Theatrical  ExpreJJion :  Diftinct  and 
clear  Pronunciation  are  the  chief  Beauties 
in  Elocution.  The  moil  celebrated  Ora- 
tor of  Athens,  was,  by  a  natural  For- 
mation of  Parts,  thick-fpeeched,   and  in 

particular 


[    24    ] 

particular  could  not  pronounce  the  Let- 
ter R.  This  Defect,  he  was  fenfible, 
was  a  very  Capital  one  in  his  ProfeJJion, 
and,  therefore,  for  a  long  Time,  ufed 
himfelfto  articulate  Soliloquy,  in  the  Re- 
tirement of  his  Garden  and  Fields ;  at  the 
fame  Time,  putting  Pebbles  into  his  Mouth 
to  alter,  gradually,  the  Size  and  Pofition 
of  the  Organs  of  Speech  j  'till,  at  laft, 
he  found  himfelf  in  a  Condition  to  appear 
in  Public. 

But  on  the  Stage  this  Defect  is  the 
more  notorious.  Bufinefs  or  Curiofity 
were  the  chief  Attra&ors  of  the  antient 
Auditory  to  the  Roflrum,  which  they  paid 
nothing  to  be  admitted  to  :  We  go  to  the 
Theatre  to  be  elegantly  entertained,  and 
pay  a  valuable  Confideration  to  thofe  who 
contribute  to  it.  We  have  a  Right  then 
to  expect  an  equivalent  Return,  and  to 
exprefs  our  Difgujl,  when  we  find  thofe 
capital  Speeches,  which  require  a  clear, 
full,  flowing ,  melodious  Articulation , 
come  tortured  to  the  Ear  in  Tones,  thick, 
harjh,  guttural,  languid,  or  Jlridulous, 

SECT 


[25    ] 

S  E  C  T.    V. 

O/Ear. 

\KJ  E  fpeak  of  this  in  the  Muficiam 
*  "  Senfe  of  the  Word.  It  is  not,  in- 
deed, necefTary  to  an  Actor  that  he  be  Co 
much  Mailer  of  Music,  as  to  be  a  Per- 
former -,  though  he  would  find  it  a  very 
ferviceable  Accompli fhment  to  him  as  an 
Actor,  if  he  were  j  but  Time,  Harmony, 
and  Cadence^  he  ought  to  have  fome 
competent  Idea  of.  Without  this,  he  will 
never  be  able  to  adapt  the  Strength  of  his 
Voice  to  the  Dimenfwns  of  the  Houfe  he 
acts  in  j  nor  to  the  fame  Houfe,  as,  at 
Times,  it  may  be  more  or  lefs  full :  which 
lafl  is  an  Accuracy  that  few,  I  believe 
have  taken  Notice  of  j  but  it  is  very 
material  to  thofe  of  the  Auditory  who  fit 
mofl  remote,  when  the  Houfe  is  crouded. 
Smnd,  which  is  no  other  than  Air  thrown 
into  certain  Vibrations^  is  obstructed  and 
imbibed  by  all  porous  Obflacles,  and  that 
in  Proportion  to  their  Porofity  ;  in  Confe- 

E  quence 


[26] 

quence,  the  Cloaths  of  every  Perfon  pre- 
fent  imbibe  each  their  Share  of  vibrated 
Air,  and  thereby  caufe  the  Voice  to  come 
fainter  and  fainter,  in  Proportion  to  its 
progrerlive  Diftance  from  the  Speaker. 
Hence  it  is,  that  Muficians,  when  they 
would  perform  with  Delicacy,  in  Places 
where  they  can  take  fuch  Freedoms,  re- 
move Table  and  Floor-Carpets,  Window- 
Curtains,  and  all  fuch  Moveables,  as  may 
flatten  the  natural  Tone  of  their  Inftru- 
ments. 

What  Actor,  without  a  tolerable  Ear 
to  Tones,  can  thus,  occafionally,  alter  the 
Strength  of  his  Voice  ?  And  yet,  I  fpeak 
it  from  Experience,  one  fhall  hardly  hear 
eight  Words  in  ten  from  fome  Actors  at 
the  back  Seats  of  the  front  Boxes,  when 
the  Houfe  is  very  full,  which,  at  a  thinner 
Audience,  would  be  very  diftinct  at  the 
fame  Diftance. 

Monotony,  which  is  beyond  all  Suffe- 
rance in  an  Actor,  is  fcarcely  avoidable, 
without  an  Ear  to  direct  him  in  Empba- 
Jis  and  Cadence.     Should  his  Emphafis  be 
juftj    that    is,    placed  upon   the  proper 

Words, 


Words,  yet  if  his  Tone  be,  in  Point  of 
Time,  too  Jhort,  or  too  long  protracted 
upon  any  empbatkal  Word,  it  will  offend 
the  Ears  of  the  more  judicious  Part  of  his 
Audience. 

The  Pajpons  require  different  Modula- 
tions of  the  Voice,  into  the  foft,  the 
plaintive,  the  flow,  the  brilk,  the  rapid, 
the  ftern,  the  exclamatory.  What  will  in 
this  Cafe  avail  him,  without  a  Jenfible 
Ear  f  Inftru&ion,  nay  even  Praclice  will 
not,  becaufe  he  wants  one  kind  of  Percep- 
tion, which  is  neceffary  to  give  them  a 
lofting  Place  in  his  Memory.  Nothing  is 
more  common,  in  fome  Actors,  than  to 
fall  from  a  Tone  foft  and  plaintive,  in  the 
Paffion  of  Love  efpecially,  into  a  down- 
right Whine ;  and  in  Speeches  of  Anger 
and  Refentment,  to  run  up  to  abfolute 
Ranting.  We  read  of  fome  of  the  an- 
tient  Orators,  who  were  fo  apt,  in  the 
Heat  of  their  Argument,  to  run  into  this 
laft  Extravagance,  that  they  fubmitted  to 
have  a  private  Regulator,  to  keep  them 
within  Compafs  by  a  Pitch-Pipe. 

E  2  In 


t 28  ] 

In  Marches,  ProceJJiom,  &c.  which 
are  accompanied  with  military ,  or  joft 
and  jolemn  Mufic,  how  difagreeable  is  it 
to  fee  an  Actors  Feet  move  in  a  Time  di- 
rectly the  Reverfe  to  that  of  the  Inftru-* 
merits?  How  much  more  fo,  to  perceive 
their  Movement  is  under  no  Regulation  at 
all  ?  But  is  this  to  be  done  without  an 
Ear? 

Once  more,  and  I  have  done  upon  this 
Head. 

Through  Defect  of  Ear  it  frequently 
happens,  that  an  Actor,  by  over  {training 
fome  occafional  Speeches  of  Anger,  or 
Threatning,  &c.  mail  lofe  his  Breath,  and 
the  Clearnefs  of  his  Voice  before  even  the 
fourth  Act  5  both  of  which  mould  be  ju^ 
dicioufly  referved  for  the  Cat ajlrophe,  where 
they  generally  are  moft  required. 


SECT, 


[    29   ] 

S  E  C  T.     VI. 

Of   Memory. 

IT  has  already  been  intimated,  that  an 
Actor's  Memory  muft  have  two  Pro- 
perties :  It  muft  be  Jlrong  and  retentive, 
and  furnifhed  with  Ideas  of  what  is  flea- 
Hng,  great,  and  good. 

The  Jirjl  of  thefe  Properties  is  too  ob- 
vious to  need  any  Argument  to  prove  it 
necejjary :  The  latter ,  poffibly,  may  not 
be  equally  evident. 

Do  we  not  fee  a  furprifing  Difference 
as  to  Sentiments,  Manners,  Converfation, 
and  Addrefs,  in  thofe,  who  have  been 
ufed  to  the  Infpeclion  of  elegant  Build- 
ings, improv'd  Projpecls,  rmifh'd  Paint- 
ings and  Statues,  together  with  the  Con- 
versation of  Men  of  Learning,  Tafie,  Po- 
ll t enefs,  and  Honour,  from  others  whofe 
Connections  never,  or  at  leafl  partially 
admitted  them  to  fuch  Advantages  ;  but 
confined  them  to  a  Familiarity  with  inde- 
licate,  uncultivated,    and    low    Objects? 

Undoubt- 


[  30] 

Undoubtedly,  becaufe  the  nobler  Objects 
had  habitually  imprefs'd  upon  their  Me- 
mories permanent  Ideas,  which  would 
naturally  exprefs  themfelves  in  external 
Manner  and  Behaviour. 

The  Tragic  Actor,  and  thofe  in  polite 
Comedy,  cannot  put  on  Grace,  Dignity, 
Eafe,  and  Politenefiy  without  having  the 
regular  and  conftant  Ideas  of  fuch  Ac- 
complishments in  his  Memory.  His  Be- 
haviour will  be  of  a  Piece  with  his  Sen- 
timents ;  which,  if  they  be  low  and  mea?i, 
his  Memory  will  force  him  to  betray  in 
his  Manner  of  acting. 

SECT.    VII. 

Of  the  Management  of  the  Feet  and 
Legs. 

1  I  1 H  E  F^/  are  more  expofed  to  Ob- 

-■-  fervation  than  moft  of  the  Actors 
other  Members  -,  becaufe  the  Stage  is  ufu- 
ally  elevated,  to  make  them  move  in  a 
Line  parallel  to  the  Eye  of  a  Spectator,  in 
the  foremoft  Row  of  the  Pit :  The  Lamps 

too 


[  3'  ] 

too  ferve  to  render  them  the  more  con- 
fpicuous. 

The  frequent  Traverfes,  and  fudden 
Turnings  upon  the  Stage,  make  the  Ma- 
nagement of  his  Feet  and  Legs  no  trivial 
Concern  of  the  Actor.  The  bombaft 
Strut,  the  diminutive  Trip,  the  unweildy 
and  awkard  Movement  of  the  Feet  in 
Turnings ;  the  Toes  turn'd  in,  or  placed  in., 
a  ftrait  Line  with  the  Bone  of  the  Leg ; 
will  leffen  all  the  Dignity  and  Graceful- 
nefs  of  the  other  Parts  of  Attitude. 

Nor  are  thefe  without  their  Expreffion, 
if  properly  managed,  in  feveral  of  the 
Faffions.  In  Ajlonifmient  and  Surprize, 
arifmg  from  Terror,  the  left  Leg  is  drawn 
back  to  fome  Diflance  from  the  other  5 
under  the  fame  Affection  of  the  Mind, 
but  refulting  from  an  unhofd-for  Meeting 
with  a  beloved  Object,  the  right  Leg  is 
advanced  to  fome  Diftance  before  the 
Left.  Thus,  the  Aftonifhmentof  Ham- 
let at  the  Sight  of  his  Father's 
Ghost,  is  of  a  Kind  very  different  from 
that  of  Oroonoko,  at  the  unexpected 
Meeting  with  his  beloved  Imoinda  5  and 

ought 


ought  to  be  very  differently  exprefs'd.  Im- 
patience■,  and  Regret  at  being  detected  in 
an  iniquitous  Defign,  may  be  heightened 
by  fluffing  of  the  Feet,  without  moving 
from  the  Spot. 

But  Anger  and  Threatening  may  be 
ftrongly  fupplied  with  grand  Expreflion 
from  thefe  Limbs.  Whoever  remembers 
old  Mr,  Mills,  will  recoiled  that  he 
had  a  Stamp  with  his  Foot,  which,  in 
fome  of  his  Parts,  appeared  to  be  directed 
by  his  judgment  j  but,  as  he  introduced 
it  alfo  in  others  which  would  no  ways  al- 
low of  it,  it  appeared  to  be  rather  an  Ha- 
bit, It  had  a  very  fine  Effect  in  the 
Part  of  Leon,  in  Rule  a  Wife,  &c: 
When  he  afTumes  the  Hujhand,  the  Gen- 
tleman, and  the  Man  of  Spirit :  As  alfo 
in  others  of  the  rough,  haughty,  2indfler?2 
Kind. 


SECT. 


[33  ] 

SECT.     VIIL 

Of  the  Management  of  the  Hands  and 

Arms. 

\AJ  E  come  now  to  a  very  critical  Ar- 
*  '  tide  in  the  Actor's  Conduct. 
There  is  fcarce  a  Line  to  be  uttered  by 
himfelfy  or  to  be  attended  to  when  fpoken 
by  others,  which  does  not  require  a  parti- 
cular Movement ;  nay,  even  in  plain  Nar- 
rative of  common  Incidents  they  muffc  be 
far  from  idle. 

But  as  to  the  ExpreJJion  of  the  Pajiom, 
there  is  not  one  of  them  that  does  not  de- 
mand the  juftefl  Emphafis  in  their  Move- 
ment and  Attitudes ;  and  all  of  thefe  are 
to  vary  according  to  the  feveral  Turns  the 
Poet  may  give  to  one  and  the  fame 
PaJJion. 

What  a  noble  Attitude  may  each  Hand 
and  Arm  be  thrown  into,  by  a  General 
giving  his  Command  at  the  Head  of  his 
Troops.  The  Right  extended  in  a  direct: 
Line  from  the  Articulation  at  the  Should- 
er Blade,  and  the  Truncheon  placed  by 

F  th„ 


E  34  1 

the  Hand  into,  nearly,  the  fame  Direc- 
tion ;  while  the  Left  fupports  his  Robe, 
half  thrown  back,  from  the  Ground ! 

And  here,  I  cannot  but  obierve,  that, 
unlefs  he  be  a  Man  well  converfant  in  At- 
titudes* the  Actor  will  find  himfelf  much 
embarrafs'd  in  the  Management  of  thefe 
Limbs,  if  his  Drefs  be  Roman,  Asiatic, 
or  very  different  from  thole   of  his  own 

Country. 

I  have  feen  a  Cato,  and  one  very  de- 

fervedly  celebrated,  who  mifs'd  his  criti- 
cal Point  of  Time  in  applying  his  Hand- 
kerchief, to  wipe  off  the  only  Tears  he 
fheds  in  the  Play,  by  not  being  able  to 
find  out  the  narrow  Slit  of  the  Pocket  in 
a  Roman  Tunic. 

The  Chinese,  and,  I  believe,  other 
Asiatics,  wear  their  Handkerchiefs  at 
their  Girdles  j  whether  the  Romans  wore 
theirs  at  their  Belts  I  won't  take  upon  mc 
to  fay  :  But  this  I  muff  obferve,  that,  as 
it  was  a  Weaknefs  in  a  Roman  to  cry  be- 
fore WitnefTes,  among  the  Stoics  efpe- 
cially,  they  generally  concealed  their  Tears 
under  their  Toga, 

It 


[35  ] 

Jt  would  be  endlefs  to  attempt  to  pro- 
duce Inflances  of  what  variety  of  Atti- 
tudes thefe  Limbs  may  be  thrown  into  by 
a  Master  of  Theatrical  Expres- 
sion. One,  however,  I  take  the  Liberty 
to  produce  from  Venice  Preferv'd-,  not 
merely,  as  it  contains  a  great  Variety  of 
Attitudes  of  the  Feet  and  Legs,  but  as  it 
will  introduce  a  Stricture  upon  the  Move- 
ment of  the  Hand  and  Arm,  which  I  be- 
lieve is  not  common. 

What  I  refer  to  commences  at  that 
Scene,  where  the  Confpirators  difcover  to 
Pierre  their  Sufpicions  of  the  Fidelity  of 
his  Friend  Jaffier. 

Ren.  ■  1  for  my  own  Part  wear 

A  Dagger 

Pier,  Well. 

Ren.  And  I  could  wifh  it — — 

Pier.  Where  ? 
Ren.  Bun/'d  in  his  Heart. 
Pier.  Away;  we're  yet  all  Friends, 
No  more  of  this, 'twill  breed  ill  Blood  among  us. 
Spin..  Let  us  all  draw  our  Swords  and  fearch  the 
Houfe, 
Pull  him  from  the  dark  Hole  where  he  fits  brooding 
O'er  his  cold  Fears,  and  each  Man  kill  his  Share 
of  him. 

F  2  Pier. 


[  36] 

Pier.  Who  talks  of  killing,  who's  he'll  fhed  his 
Blood, 
That's  dear  to  me  ?  Is't  you  ?  or  you,  Sir  ? 
What,  not  one  fpeak  ?  How  you  ftand  gaping  all 
On  your  grave  Oracle,  your  wooden  God  there! 
Yet  not  a  Word  ?  Then,  Sir,  I'll  tell  you  a  Secret, 
Sufpicions  but  at  beft  a  coward  Virtue. 

Ren.  A  Coward  !- 

Pier.  Put  up  thy  Sword,  old  Man, 

Thy  Hand  shakes  at  it  ;  come  lets  heal  this 

Breach ; 
I  am  too  hot :  We  yet  may  live  all  Friends. 

Spin.  'Till  we  are  fafe,  our  Friendship  can't  be  fo. 

Pier.  Again  !  Who's  that  ? 

Spin.  'Twas  I. 

Thead.  And  I. 

Rev.  And  I. 

Eli.  And  all. 

Ren.  Who  are  on  my  Side  ? 

Spin.  Every  honeft  Sword. 
Xet's  die  like  Men,  and  not  be  fold  like  Slaves. 

Pier.  One  fuch  word  more,  by  Heav'n  I'll  to  the 
Senate 
And  hang  you  all  like  Dogs,  in  Clufters. 
Why  weeps  your  Coward  Swords  half  out  their 

Shells  ? 
Why  do  you  not  all  brandifh  them  like  mine  ? 
You  fear  to  die,  and  yet  dare  talk  of  killing. 

'Tis  not  difficult  to  fee  what  noble  Em- 
ployment for  the  Altitudes  of  Pierre  lies 
in  fo  narrow  a  Compafs  ;  in  which  the 

Limbs* 


[  37  ] 

Limbs,  we  are  fpeaking  of,  have  nojmall 
Share  :  But  this  PafTage  was  chofen,  pre- 
ferably to  others,  on  account  of  that  con- 
temptuous Addrefs  to  Renault,  mark'd 
in  Capitals. 

The  Italians  have  a  Method  of  ex- 
preffing  Contempt  different  from  ours.  By 
them  it  is  done  by  waving  the  right  Hand 
pretty  near  their  own  Face,  and  turning 
their  Head  afide  from  the  Object  they  di- 
rect it  to.  Whether,  as  the  Scene  is  laid 
in  Italy,  it  would  not  be  Merit  in  an 
English  Actor  to  exprefs  it  in  the  Ita- 
lian Manner,  is  fubmitted  to  public 
Judgment  ? 

It  may  be  objected,  that,  as  this  is  the 
higheji  Act  of  Contempt  one  Italian 
can  mew  to  another,  it  ought  to  have 
been  mitigated  againft  an  old  Man,  as  Re- 
nault was.  But  it  mufl  be  remember- 
ed, that  Pierre  was  not  only  warmed  by 
the  prefent  Affront  to  himfelf,  but  had 
been  alfo  apprifed  of  Renault's  villai- 
nous Attempt  upon  the  Wife  of  his 
Friend. 

I  can- 


[  38] 

I  cannot  conclude  this  Article,  without 
recommending,  to  thofe  who  attempt  to 
fucceed  Capitally  upon  the  Stage,  the 
Study  of  the  beft  Paintings,  Statues,  and 
Prints,  many  of  which  may  be  infpected 
upon  eafy  Terms.  Among  thefe  the  At- 
titudes of  the  four  Limbs  are  exprefs'd, 
through  the  feveral  Paflions,  in  a  very 
grand  and  mafteily  Manner,  and,  if  hap- 
pily hit  of  by  an  Actor,  would  place  him 
to  high  Advantage  upon  the  Stage. 

It  was,  long,  matter  of  Amazement  to 
me,  how  the  antient  Affiors  could  pleafe  a 
judicious  and  polite  Audience,  under  the 
Persona,  which  hid  the  mofi  exprcjfive 
Member  of  the  whole  Body,  the  Head 
and  Face. 

The  Chinese,  who,  though  they  have 
no  regular  Stage,  yet  have  their  Itinerant 
Aflors  who  perform,  at  fhort  Notice,  at 
the  Entertainments  of  the  Great,  have 
their  Perfona.  I  have  feen,  and  worn  one 
of  them,  but  cannot  exprefs  how  much  I 
am  at  a  Lofs  to  think,  how  any  elegant 
Action  can  be  carried  on   under  fuch  an 

Incumbrance. 

But 


[39] 

But  as  to  the  politer  Stages  of  the  Claf- 
Jical  Antients,  I  conceive  their  chief 
Power  of  pleafing  lay  in  their  Attitudes, 
and  the  Management  of  their  Limits. 
They  had  the  moft  finifh'd  Faintifigs  and 
Statues,  obvious  to  their  Infpection ;  and 
by  producing  thefe  Attitudes  exprefs'd  by 
them,  upon  the  Stage,  could  not  fail  to 
give  great  Satisfaction  to  their  noble  and 
polite  Audiences. 

SECT.     IX. 

Of  the  Management  of  the  Head. 

HP  HERE  is  little  to  be  offered  upon 
-*-    this  Article  ;  but  what  there  is  has 
great  Significancy  in  Theatrical  Ex- 
pression. 

The  Head,  linking  between  the  Sould- 
er,  protruded  over  the  Breaft,  hanging  on 
one  Side  (unlefs  in  Arch-Comic  Parts)  or 
carried  with  a  conftant  erecl;  Stiffnefs 
would  ruin  all  kind  of  Attitude  :  Where- 
as, an  erect  eafy  Carriage  gives  Grace, 
Dignity,  and  Authority ;  and  ierves  to 
exprefs,  when  a  little  more  elevated  than 

in 


T4°  ] 

in   the  general   Deportment,  Haughtinefs, 
Defiance,  Bravery,  and  Refolution. 

A  graceful  Nod  conveys  Approbation 
and  Qmfenty  one  more  quick,  and  re- 
peated, enforces  Obedience  to  Commands  > 
a  flow  Movement  from  Side  to  Side  fhould 
accompany  Di [approbation,  Denial,  and 
Defpair  ;  and  a  turning  it  Sideways  over 
either  Shoulder  towards  the  Object  we 
addrefs,  carries  Contempt,  Menaces,  7*77- 
demefs,  Fondnejs,  and  Regret  at  parting. 

S  E  C  T.     X. 

Of  the  Management  of  the  Face. 


t 


"HE  Face  is  the  grand  Index  to 
the  Mind,  the  Soul,  and  the  Af~ 
fecliofis  and  Pajjions  of  both  :  In  courfe 
the  Management  of  this  is  the  capital 
Teil  of  an  Actor's  Judgment  and  Abilities. 
Difencumber'd  as  they  are  from  the 
Persona,  the  modern  Actors  have  an  in- 
finite Superiority  over  the  Antient,  in  the 
Power  of  pleafing ;  and  therefore  that 
Actor  who  is  indolent  or  indifferent  in  the 

Study. 


[  4'   3 

Study  of  lb  material  a  Part  of  ExprefTion, 
is  unpardonable. 

There  are  fome  Men,  indeed,  of  fuch 
unhappy  Countenances,  as  to  be  entirely 
void  of  Meaning  •,  fome,  whofe  Mufcles 
are  flexible  to  none  but  the  groifer  and 
more  boifterous  Paffions :  Thefe  mould 
never  attempt  the  Stage,  unlefs  in  low 
Comedy.  Others  there  are  of  an  Afpedl 
more  fenfible  and  ductile,  but  too  igno- 
rant of  the  Theory  of  the  Pqffwns,  and 
the  Manner  in  which  Nature  throws  them 
into  the  Countenance,  to  be  able  to  turn 
their  promifing  Features  to  any  Advan- 
tage :  Thefe  mould  never  attempt  the 
Stage. 

Volumes  might  be  wrote  upon  \\i\s  Jingle 
Article  in  Theatrical  Expression. 
Every  Feature,  every  Mufcle,  may  be  made 
to  /peak-,  and  every  PaJJion  and  Affection 
of  the  human  Mind,  under  all  the  various 
Medes  in  which  Nature  exprefles  them, 
may  be  conveyed  to  the  Perception  of  a 
fenfible  Spectator,  without  the  leaft  Af- 
fiftance  from  Speech. 

G  Twoulj 


[42  ] 

'T would  be  Folly,  in  fo  fmall  a  Per- 
formance as  we  intend  this  to  be,  to  en- 
large upon  a  Subject  fo  extenfive  :  We 
clofe  it,  then,  with  a  fingle  Inftance  (in 
Part)  of  what  may  be  executed  by  the 
Features,  under  the  Management  of  a 
judicious  Actor. 

In  the  Siege  of  Damascus,  p.  46.  of 
Meflieurs  Tonfons  8vo  Edition  in  1753, 
Phocyas  theChriftian  General,  is  brought 
Captive  by  Daran,  an  Officer  in  the 
Saracen  Army,  to  Caled*  the  furly 
Chieftain  of  that  brutal  People. 

Cal.  Whence,  and  what  art  thou  !— -  of  Damaf- 
eus  ? — Daran, 
Where  didft  thou  find  this  dumb  and  fallen  Thing, 
That  feems  to  lour  Defiance  on  our  Anger  ? 
*****  &c. 

Cal.  Have  I  not  feen  thy  Face  ? 

Abu.  [to  Cakd.]     He  hears  thee  not  ; 
His  Eyes  are  fix'd  on  Earth  ;  fome  deep  Diftrefs 
Is  at  his  Heart.     This  is  no  common  Captive. 

Cal.  A  Lion  in  the  Toils  !  we  foon  (hall  tame 
him. 
Still  art  thou  Dumb  !  —Nay ;  'tis  in  vain  to  caft 
Thy  gloomy  Looks  fo  oft  around  this  Place, 
Or  Frown  upon  thy  Bonds— thou  can'ft  not  'fcape. 

Hitherto, 


[43  ] 

Hitherto,  we  find,  Phocyas  has  no* 
fpoken  one  word ;  but  how  expreffive  his 
Features  muir.  have  been,  appears  from 
the  Effect  they  had  upon  his  ftern  En- 
Haver. 

Let  us  now  fee,  how  they  mufl  have 
been  concerned  when  he  breaks  into 
Speech  j  as  he  now  immediately  does  in 
Reply  to  the  haughty  Caled. 

Pho.  Then  be  it  fo — the  worft  is  part  already, 

And  Life  is  now  not  worth  a  jvloment's  Paufe. 

Do  you  not  know  me  yet  ? — Think  of  the  Man 

You  have  moft  Caufe  to  curfe,  and  I  am  He. 

Cat.  Ha!    Phocyas? 
****** 

Pho.    Yes, 

Thou  proud,  blood-thirny  Arab  !  — Well  I  know 

What  to  expeft  from  thee ;  I  know  you  all. 

How  mould  the  Authors  of  Diftrefs  and  Ruin 

Be  mov'd  to  Pity  ?  That's  a  Human  Patlion  j 

No— in  your  hungry  Eyes  that  look  Revenge, 

I  read  my  Doom.     Where  are  your  Racks,  your 

Tortures  ? 

I'm  ready — lead  me  to  'em  ;  I  can  bear 

The  worfl  of  Ills  from  you. • 

In  this  Speech  we  finda  that  the  Fea- 
tures of  the  Arab  Chiefs  were  no  lefs  em- 
ployed than  thofe  of  Phocyas. 

G  2  SECT. 


[  44  ] 

S  E  C  T.     XL 

Of  the  Management  of  the  Eyes. 

THO'  the  Eyes  are,  properly  in- 
cluded in  the  laft  Article,  and,  in 
what  we  have  given  there,  intended  they 
mould  be  fo  ;  yet,  as  they  are  the  moft 
fpeaking,  moft  fignificant  Feature  in  the 
Face,  we  think  ourfelves  obliged  to  give 
them  a  more  particular  and  diftindt  Con- 
fideration. 

In  every  rifmg  PafTion  the  Eye  always 
makes  the  frji  Difcovery  ;  and,  generally. 
in  thofe  more  fudden  and  injlantaneous* 
Pledfure  and  jfoy  lights  them  up  to  fpark- 
ling  Brilliancy ;  Difappointment  and  Grief 
deadens  them  into  Languor  and  Tears : — 
Ajlonijiment  and  Fear  keep  them  iix'd 
and  open  ;  Humility -,  Modefty,  and  Abajh- 
ment  under  Conviction  of  Villany,  direct 
them  to  the  Ground.  Courage,  Refent- 
ment,  and  Anger,  make  them  roll,  fwell, 
and  dart  out,  as  it  were,  a  kind  of  Fire  ; 
*Tendernefs  and  the  fofter  Pafjions  make 
them  fwim  with  a  gentle,  placid  Mildnefs. 

They 


[45  ] 

They  menace  ;  they  chide ;  they  defpife  -, 
they  approve ;  and  were  made  for  num- 
berlefs  nobler  Purpofes  in  an  Actor,  than 
to  ramble  over  the  Houfe,  or  be  partiadar 
to  the  Green-Boxes. 

Mr.  Southern  fupplies  us  with  a  fine 
Inftance,  in  Point,  in  the  laft  Scene  of 
the  fecond  Act  in  his  Oroonoko  ;  when 
that  amiable  Prince  is  thrown  into  a  de- 
lightful Aftoniihment  at  the  defpair'd-of 
Recovery  of  his  Imoinda. 

Gov.  [to  Oroonoko']    Clemene  too  mall  thank  you 
— She  is  fafe — 

[Brings  Clemene  forward,  looking  down  on  the 
Ground.] 
Look  up  and  blefs  your  brave  Deliverer. 

Oro.  Blefs  me  indeed  ! 

Blan.  You  Start  ! 

Oro.  O  all  you  Gods  ! 
Who  govern  this  great  World,  and  bring  about 
Things  ftrange,  and  unexpected,  can  it  be  ? 

Gov.  What  is't  you  ftare  at  fo  .? 

Oro.  Anfwer  me  fome  of  you,  you  who  have 
Power, 
And  have  your  Senfes  free  :  Or  are  you  all 
Struck  thro'  with  Wonder  too  ? 

Blan.  What  would  you  know  ? 

Oro.  My  Soul  fteals  from  my  Body  thro*  my 

Eyes: 

All 


[  46] 

All  that  is  left  of  Life,  i'U  gaze  away, 
And  die  upon  the  Pleafure. 

Gov.  This  is  ftrange. 

Oro.  If  you  but  mock  me  with  her  Image  here  : 
If  (lie  be  not  Imoinda — ■— 
Ha!  She  faints! 

Nay,  then  it  mult  be  She  :  It  is  Imoinda  : 
My  Heart  confelTes  her,  and  leaps  for  Joy, 
To  welcome  her  to  her  own  Empire  here. 
I  feel  her  all,  in  every  Part  of  me. 
O  !  let  me  prefs  her  in  my  eager  Arms, 
Wake  her  to  Life,  and  with  this  kindling  Kifs 
Give  back  that  Soul,  fhe  only  fent  to  me. 
*  *  *  * 

Oro.    Imoinda  !  O  !  thy  Oroonoko  calls. 

What  various  Employment  for  the 
Eyes  is  here  !  With  what  a  Look  of  inef- 
fable Complacency  and  Fondnejs  would  the 
real  Oroonoko  have  exprefs'd  the  laft 
Line. 

SECT.     XII. 

Of  Silence  by  artificial  Pauses. 

THIS,  when  critically  introduced, 
gives  a  capital  Grace  to  Theatri- 
cal Expression,  and  does  as  much 
Honour  to  the   Actor's  Judgment,  as  to 

his 


•    [47] 

his  Performance.  In  feveral  of  the  Paj- 
Jions,  particularly  Afionijhment^  Terror, 
Grief  and  excejlive  Choler,  Nature  has 
Recourfe  to  fetch  a  Relief,  and  evidently 
directs  the  Actor  to  his  Duty  :  But  the 
delicate  Opportunities  of  introducing  thefe 
artificial  Pauses,  lie  too  remote  from 
common  Application,  and  are  known  to 
thofe  only,  whofe  Theatrical  Tajle  is  very 
accurate. 

In  fome  Dram  a's  the  Poet  has 
thought  fit  to  give  a  few  Directions  for 
introducing;  them  :  but  as  the  ever  memo- 
rable  Shakespeare  ftands  in  Evidence, 
that  thofe  who  fucceed  bell;  in  Drama- 
tic Poetry,  may  make  but  indifferent 
Figures  in  Dramatic  Action,  the  ju- 
dicious Actor  will  fcarce  think  himfelf 
obliged  to  adhere  Jlrictly  to  their  Intima- 
tions. 

It  is  not  without  the  humbleft  Defe- 
rence to  better  Judgments,  that  we  ven- 
ture to  produce,  upon  fo  capital  an  Arti- 
cle in  Theatrical  Expression,  three 
Inftances,  in  which,  wc  conceive  the  ar- 
tificial Pause  may  have  a  very  happy  Ef- 
fect. 


[  48  ] 

feet.     An  Aster  ism  will  point  out  where 
we  think  they  mould  take  Place. 

We  fhall  take  the  firft  from  the  laft 
Scene,  but  one,  in  Oroonoko,  where 
that  fondeft  of  Hufbands  is  ftruggling  be- 
tween Tendernefs  and  the  NeceJ/ity  of  kil- 
ling his  amiable  Wife. 

Imo.    I'm  ready. 

Oro.    *    O  !  Where  mall  I  rtrike? 
Is  there  the  fmalleft  Grain  in  of  that  lov'd  Body 
That  is  not  dearer  to  me  than  my  Eyes, 
My  boibm'd  Heart,  and  all  my  Life-blood  there  ? 
Bid  me  cut  offthefe  Limbs,  hew  offthefe  Hands, 
Dig  out  thefe  Eyes,  tho'  I  would  keep  them  laft 
To  gaze  upon  thee ;  but  to  murder  thee  ! 
The  Joy  and  Charm  of  every  ravifh'd  Senfe, 
My  Wife  !  *  forbid  it  Nature. 

The  filent  Survey  of  the  beloved  of 
his  Soul,  neceflitated  to  Deftruction,  and 
>f  thofe  Beauties,  which  his  own  extend- 
ed Hand  is  about  to  flrike  into  irretrie- 
vable Extinction,  cannot  but  move  a  fen- 
fible  Spectator  to  a  fympathetic  Feeling 
of  fuch  aggravated  Dirirefs  ;  and,  if  he 
has  ever  known  what  it  is  to  love,  to  en- 
joy, to  part  with,  a  Woman  every  way 
amiable   and  worthy,    in   the   Bloom    of 

Health, 


[49] 

Healthy  Youth,  and  Beauty ,  he  cannot 
reftrain  the  fwelling  Tear  through  the 
Speech  that  fucceeds  it :  He  cannot,  me- 
thinks,  conceal  this  generous  Emotion  be- 
yond the  loft  Pause. 

We  give  the  fecond  Inftance  of  a  Pro- 
priety of  this  kind,  in  the  Manner  of 
Cato's  receiving  the  Coarfe  of  his  gal- 
lant Son. 

Cato.    Welcome  my  Son !  Here  lay  him  down, 

my  Friends, 
Full  in  my  Sight,  that  I  may  view  at  Leifure 
The   bloody  Coarfe,    and  count   thofe  glorious 

Wounds. 
>•  ■%  *  How  beautiful  is  Death,  when  earn'd  by 

Virtue  ! 

The  Pause  in  this  Place  is  evidently 
necejfary,  from  Cato's  defiring  to  view 
his  mangled  Son  at  Leifure  j  but  its  Beau- 
ty arifes  fom  the  throwing  into  the 
ftrongeft  Light  a  capital  Characleriftic  of 
that  great  Man  ,  I  mean,  his  manly  Refo- 
lution  and  Fortitude  under  fuch  Events,  as 
would  have  totally  born  doivn  any  one 
lefs  Jleady  than  himjelf.  We,  the  Spec- 
tators,   are  waiting  with   an  eager,    but 

H  awful 


1 50} 

awful  Curiofity  to  hear  what  fo  great  2. 
Man  can,  in  Character,  fay  upon  fuch  an 
Occasion,  and  confequently  are  fitted  to 
receive  with  higher  Admiration,  the  no- 
ble, Patriot  Remark,  that  follows  upon 
a  Subject  fo  interefting  to  himfelf. 

Mr.  Garrick  fupplies  us  with  the 
third  Inftance,  in  the  juftly  celebrated 
Tent-Scene  in  Richard  III.  where  that 
Monfter  in  Blood  and  excefllve  Villany, 
wakes  in  all  the  Terrors  of  an  Imagina- 
tion diffracted  by  confcious  Guilt. 

Rich.  Give  me  a  Horfe — bind  up  my  Wounds ! 
*  Have  Mercy,  Heav'n  ! 

What  mafterly  ExpreJJion  has  the  'great 
Shakespeare  fhewn  in  thefe  eleven 
Words !  The  rapid  Incoherence  of  the 
firft  Line,  prcfents  ftrongly  to  us  the 
guilty  Confufion  of  Richard's  Senfes, 
fcarce  yet  awake,  at  the  Eve  of  a  Battle, 
which  might  bring  him  a  full  Punifh- 
ment  for  his  enormous  Crimes  5  and,  for 
the  firft  Time,  forces  him  to  addrefs  that 
Heaven  which,  he  believed,  he  had  of- 
fended beyond  Forgivenefs, 

A  Man, 


[  5i  ] 

A  Man,  awaken'd  in  Surprize,  requires 
Time  to  recover  himfelf  for  coherent 
Speech  :  One,  awaken'd  in  Terror,  more  > 
becaufe  Terror  retards  the  Motion  of  the 
Blood,  and  the  Flow  of  Animal  Spirits  is 
check'd,  in  Proportion.  Were  it  for  no 
other  Reafons,  a  Pause  at  the  End  of 
the  firft  Line  is  necejfary,  according  to  the 
ufual  Affection  of  Nature  upon  Jitcb  Oc- 
casions. 

But,  to  bring  a  remorfelefs  Wretch  to 
Feeling,  and  from  Feeling  to  Fray,  re- 
quires a  Pause  indeed.  Exquifitely  jufi 
and  beautiful  is  Shhkespeare's  Expref- 
Jion ;  exquifitely  juft  and  beautiful  is  Gar- 
rick's  ABion,  in  fo  fmall  a  Comfafs  ! 

If  any  Reader  is  at  a  Lofs  to  know  the 
Meaning  of  the  fecond  Motto  in  the 
Title-Page  to  thefe  Papers,  the  beft 
Conftruction  I  can  refer  him  to,  is  Mr. 
Garrick's  Pause  in  this  excellent  Speech. 


H  2  SECT. 


1 5*  ] 

SECT.     IX. 

0/"Silence,  when  attending  to  the  Parts 
of  other  Actors. 

THESE  Intervals  of  Silence,  if 
we  may  judge  by  their  Conduct, 
feem  to  be  confidered  by  the  Generality 
of  Actors,  as  intended  merely  for  the  Re- 
covery  of  their  Breath  ;  and  are  common- 
ly employed  in  furveying  the  Number  and 
Quality  of  their  Audience.  We  mail  find, 
among  fome,  a  Speech  calculated  to  ex- 
cite a  latent  Paffon,  or  to  heighten  one  al- 
ready in  its  Ri/e,  received  with  perfect 
Apathy  and  Indifference  -,  and  the  An- 
fwer,  all  at  once,  prepofteroufly  returned 
in  the  Rage  of  Paffon,  or  Theatrical 
Throws  of  Difrefs. 

What  Spectator  of  the  haft  Tafte  can 
bear  with  fuch  Dijiorficn  of  Nature  and 
common  Senfe?  Though  the  Audience  is 
either  too  candid  or  polite  to  exprefs  their 
Cenfure  in  the  ufual  Way  j  let  not  the 
Actor  conclude  from  hence ,  that  this 
fort  of  Inaccuracy  is  -either  trivial  or  un- 
noticed. 


[  53  ] 

noticed.  'Tis  in  Tendernefs  to  his  jellow 
ABor  at  that  Time  /peaking,  that  the 
public  Token  of  Difguft  is  fupprefs'd  ; 
leaft  the  Hifs  mould  throw  the  Speaker 
into  Confufion,  by  mifapplying  it  to  him- 

M 

But  the  Actor,  by  this  Piece  of  Mif- 
conduct,  is  not  only  lofing  himfelf  in  the 
Favour  of  the  Publick,  but  throws  away 
the  fitter!:  Incentives  to  work  him  up  to  a 
proper  Frame  for  delivering  his  next 
Speech.  Do  we  not  fee,  when  Argu- 
ment and  Altercation  run  high  in  com- 
mon Difcourfe,  that  a  fingle  cutting  Word 
fhall  throw  the  Perfon  it  is  addrefs'd  to  in- 
to an  higher  and  more  natural  Pafiion, 
than  he  would  have  rifen  to  if  he  had  had 
more  of  the  Converfation  to  himfelf? 
And  is  it  not  equally  common,  that  a 
Man  of  humane  Senfibility,  fhall  be 
work'd  into  all  the  Emotions  of  Compaf- 
fion  and  Sympathy,  nay  fometimes  even 
to  Tears,  by  attending  to  a  plain  Narra- 
tive of  deep  and  real  Diftrefs  ? 

'Tis 


I  54] 

'Tis  unpardonable  in  an  ASlor  not  to 
avail  himfelf  of  thefe  Advantages :  It 
mews,  as  if  he  paid  no  kind  of  Regard 
to  the  Judgment  or  Satisfaction  of  thofe 
who  fupport  him. 

The  late  Mr.  Milwardy  who,  though 
not  of  the  Jirji  Rank,  was  very  far  from 
being  an  indifferent  Actor,  confefs'd  to 
me,  that,  in  feveral  of  his  Parts,  a  care- 
ful Attention  to  the  Speeches  that  were 
addrefs'd  to  him,  hardly  ever  fail'd  of 
bringing  him  to  feel  Emotion  altogether 
as  flrong  and  affecting  as  thofe  of  Nature 
on  the  fame  Occafions  j  and  that  fome- 
times  real  Tears  made  the  Application  of 
an  Handkerchief  abfolutely  neceffary  to 
him.  He  particularly,  I  remember,  in- 
flanced  the  Part  of  Jaffier,  and,  a- 
mong  other  Circumstances  of  Diflrefs  in 
that  Character,  I  think  he  mentioned  the 
Struggle  he  felt  between  Tendernefs  to  his 
Wife,  and  Honour  to  his  Friend,  while 
Eelvedera  addrefs'd  him  in  the  follow- 
ing Terms :  Venice  Prefervd,  Act  3, 
Scene  1. 

•    Beh. 


[  S5  ] 

Beh.  Yes,  yes,  there  was  a  Time 
When  Behidera's  Tears,  her  Cries  and  Sorrows 
Were  not  defpis'd,  when  if  (lie  chanc'd  to  figh 

Or  look  but  fad  ; there  was  indeed  a  Time 

When  Jqffier  would  have  ta'en  her  in  his  Arms, 
Eas'd  her  declining  Head  upon  his  Breaft, 
And  never  left  her  'till  he  found  the  Caufe. 
But  let  her  now  weep  Seas, 
Cry  till  (he  rend  the  Earth,  figh  'till  (he  burft 
Her  Heart  afunder;  ftill  he  bears  it  all, 

Deaf  as  the  Wind,  and  as  the  Rocks  unfhaken. 

******  £c# 

Beh.  Tell  me,  bejuft,  and  tell  me, 
Why  dwells  that  bufy  Cloud  upon  thy  Face  ? 
Why  am  I  made  a  Stranger  ?  Why  that  Sigh 
And  I   not  know  the  Caufe?    Why,   when  the 

World 
Is  wrap'd  in  Reft,  why  chufes  then  my  Love 
To  wander  up  and  down  in  horrid  Darknefs, 
Loathing  his  Bed  and  thefe  defiring  Arms  ? 
Why  are    thefe  Eyes    Blood-mot   with  tedious 

Watching  ! 
Why  ftarts  he  now  ?  And  looks  as  if  he  wifti'd 
His  Fate  were  flr.iih'd  ?  Tell  me,  eafe  my  Fear ; 
Left,  when  we  next  Time  meet,  I  want  the  Power 
To  fearch  into  the  Sicknefs  of  thy  Mind, 
And  talk  as  wildly  then,  as  thou  look'ft  now. 

Jaf.    Oh  !  Behi&era  ! 

What  can  we  think  of  the  Actor  who 
fhould  receive  fuch  affecline:  AddrefTes  to 

the 


*      1 56 } 

the  Heart,  without  fuch  Emotions  as  thofc 
Mr.  Milwatd  felt.  Mr.  Mil  ward,  I 
believe,  was  allowed,  by  thofe  that  knew 
him,  to  have  heen  a  Man  of  Honour,  and 
a  good  Hujband:  Such  will  feel ;  and  that, 
in  every  Part  they  undertake. 

SECT.     XIV. 

Of  T  a  s  t  in  Dress. 

\  S  this  and  the  following  Article 
■**  *■  very  feldom  fall  under  the  Direc- 
tion of  an  Aftor,  we  mall  referve  them 
for  more  particular  Obfervation  in  the 
Appendix  ;  where  we  mail  attempt  to 
mew,  how  far  the  Conduct  of  a  Mana- 
ger may  contribute  to  promote  y  or  lejfen 
the  Elegance  of  Theatrical  Expres- 
sion. 

But,  tho'  the  Actor  may  be  obliged  to 
fubmit  to  wear  the  Drefs  provided  for 
him,  he  ought  not  to  be  without  a  I'afte 
of  its  P?-opriety.  Let  that  Part  of  it  that 
is  furnifhed  by  the  Manager  be  ever  fo 
elegant  and  in  Character,  the  Actor  who  is 
not  fenfible  of  this,  will  never  wear  it  with 

Eafe  ; 


[57] 

Eafe ;  and  'tis  five  to  one,  but  that,  in 
thofe  Particulars  which  the  Actor  ufually 

fupplies  himfelf,  there  will  be  an  untow- 
ard and  ridiculous  Impropriety.  I  have 
feen  an  Hero,  whether  Greek  or  Roman 
I  forget,  who  is  to  make  nothing  of  chin- 
ing whomever  comes  in  his  way,  with  an 
Effeminate  Plenitude  of  Cherry  -  colour  d 
Ribband  depending  from  the  Tail  of  his 
Peruke  ;  while  the  Princely  Heroine  of 
the  fame  Country  has  totter  d  in  State 
upon  a  Pair  of  French-Heels. 

This  leads  me  to  remind  the  Actor  that 
it  behoves  him  to  be  converfant  in  the 
Modes  of  Drefs,  antient  as  well  as  mo- 
dern, of  other  Countries  befides  his  own. 
The  Greek,  Roman,  and  Asiatic, 
allow  of  no  open  Bofom,  Pocket-hole^ 
Breeches-wai/l- Bandy  or  Hat,  to  find  Em- 
ployment for  his  Ha?ids.  The  Sword  and 
truncheon,  'tis  true,  will  help  him  out 
now  and  then  ,  that  is,  in  or  before  a  Bat- 
tle :  The  Handkerchief  too,  may  be  of 
fervice  once  or  twice,  perhaps  j  but  the 
Hero  muft  not  make  too  frequent  Appli- 
cation to  this  female  Apparatus  to  Dif- 

I  trefs. 


I  5M 

treis.  I*  could  never  find  that  Alexan- 
der, Cato,  or  any  of  their  illustri- 
ous Countrymen  were  Mailers  of  a 
Snujf-Box ;  fo,  I  doubt,  'twould  be  too 
bold  a  Stroke  to  have  Recourfe  to  that 
common  Relief  to  the  Hands  and  Memory, 
mould  the  Public  be  ever  brought  to  al- 
low of  it,  in  modern  Tragedy,  where 
the  Scene  may  be  laid  in  a  Snuff-Country, 
To  what,  then,  muft  the  Actor  apply 
for  Rules  of  Deportment  in  Drejjes  fo 
different  from  his  own  ?  To  Tast.  This 
ought  to  be  natural ;  were  it  fo,  it  would 
foon  bring  him  acquainted  with  the  pro- 
per Manner  of  managing  any  Dre/s  ex- 
emplified before  him.  But  this  kind  of 
Tajl  may  be  acquired  :  Let  him,  as  above 
intimated,  confult  the  bell:  Paintings  and 
Statues  where  the  Drapery  is  of  the  Kind 
we  are  fpeaking  of :  Thefe  will  lead  him 
into  a  graceful  Variety  of  Deportment ; 
and  in  Time  make  any  Drefs  as  managea- 
ble and  eafy  to  him  as  his  awn. 


SECT. 


[  59  ] 

• 

SECT.     XV. 

O/Tast  in  Scenery. 

HP  H  O'  the  Actor,  I  believe,  is  feldom 
-*~  confulted  upon  this  Head  5  it  will 
be  of  Service  to  him  to  know  when  thefe 
necejfary  Decorations  are  executed  in 
Tastj  were  it  is  for  no  other  Reafon 
than  this  :  It  will  excite  him  to  more  cor- 
reel  and  animated  Action. 

The  whole,  indeed,  is  loft  to  his  Eye, 
on  the  Spot  where  he  is  to  perform ;  but 
he   knows  the  Effect   which  a  majlerly 
Performance  upon   Canvas  will  have  at 
thofe  Points  from  whence  the  Spectators 
view  it.     If  the  Streets,  Buildings,,  Rooms 
and  Furniture,  Gardens,  Views  of  the  Coun- 
try, £cc.   be  executed  in  the  Toft  of  the 
Country  where  the  Scene  of  Action  in  the 
Play  lies,  and  the  Keeping  and  Perjpetlive 
be  good,  the  whole  House  never  fails  to 
give  the  moil  audible  Evidence  of  their 
Satisfaction.  This  puts  them  into  a  Com- 
placency very   favourable  to  the  Actor, 
who  appears  to  them  with  double  Advan- 

I  2  tage, 


[  6o] 

tage,  when  every  thing  around  him  is  in 
Character. 

On  his  Part,  the  Actor,  if  he  has  any 
%aft  of  this  kind,  will  fhut  his  mental 
Eye  to  the  naked  Intervals  between  the 
Side  Scenes  ;  and  conceiving  himfelf  upon 
a  Spot  as  elegant  as  it  appears  to  the  Spec- 
tators, will  endeavour  to  make  his  Action 
correfpond  with  thofe  Ideas  which  the 
Scenery  had  raifed  in  them. 

On  the  Reverfe,  an  Actor,  whofe  Ideas 
are  no  ways  elevated  by  the  ornamental 
Propriety  of  the  Spot  he  acts  upon,  runs 
the  Hazard  of  falling  into  a  Poverty  of 
Action  5  the  lealt  Initance  of  which  will 
be  confpicuous  to  thofe,  whofe  Expecta- 
tions of  his  Execution  have  been  raifed  by 
that  of  the  Painter. 

Eefides,  as  there  is  a  great  affinity  be- 
tween the  polite  Arts,  a  remarkable  Infen- 
fihili'ty  to  or.p  is  generally  accompanied 
with  an  indifferent  or  vitious  Tajl  in 
other: ;  and  it  is  much  to  be  feared  ifeat 
an  Actor,  who  is  very  little  affected  by 
one   kind   of    Theatrical    Propriety,    will 

prove 


[6i  ] 

prove  defective  in  others  more  material, 
perhaps,  than  that  we  have  been  fpeaking 
of. 

SECT.    XVI. 

Of  Variety  in  A5ling>  at  different  Timest 
the  fame  Part, 

/CORRECT  and fpirited Action will 
^J  give  a  lafting  Agreeablenefs  to  any 
Part,  tho'  no  Variety  be  attempted  ;  but  a 
judicious  Variation  will  render  it  flill 
more  agreeable ;  and  is,  perhaps,  neceffa- 
ry,  when  a  Hlay  has  a  Run  for  feveral 
Nights  fuccefTively. 

To  attempt  this  in  trivial  Incidents 
would  either  efcape  our  Obfervation,  or,  if 
obferv'd,  would  rather  leiTen  than  encreafe 
our  Opinion  of  the  Actor's  Judgment. 
We  expect  it  only  in  thofe  more  refined 
Parts  of  Action,  which  ftruck  us  mod  at 
firft  j  whofe  Impreflion  upon  us  becomes 
weaker  and  weaker  by  a  long  repeated 
Samenefs.  This,  I  acknowledge,  renders 
the  Attempt  more  difficult,  but,  if  fuc- 
ceeded  in,   more  glorious  to  the  Actor, 

who 


[62] 

who  will  now  have  arrived  at  the  Summit 
of  Theatrical  Excellence. 

The  Italians,  I  think,  are  allowed 
to  carry  off  from  other  Stages  the  Prefe- 
rence in  this  Point ;  and,  if  they  have 
feveral  Actors  as  adroit  as  their  aftonifh- 
ing  Country-woman  in  the  Burletta's  of 
the  Seafon  before  this,  I  do  not  fee  who 
can  refufe  to  give  it  them. 

I  have  been  very  cautious  of  coming  to 
Particulars  with  any  Performer  upon  our 
prefent  Theatres,  One  only,  a  Perform- 
er indeed,  excepted:  The  Ladies  I  have 
not  dared  to  fuppofe  any  ways  concerned 
in  thefe  Strictures :  And  I  take  this  Op- 
portunity of  alluring  the  Theatrical  Bo- 
dies of  both  Houfes,  that  tho'  my  Opinion 
of  Action  Hood  at  the  Point  it  does  in 
thefe  Sheets,  before  feveral  of  them  had 
made  their  Appearance  to  the  Town,  I 
never  could  be  prevail'd  upon  to  join  in 
a  noify  Difcouragement  of  thofe,    who, 
fail  as  they  might,  were  attempting  to  gra- 
tify me  in  one  of  my  moil  favourite  En- 
tertainments. 

I  mail 


1*3] 

I  mall  therefore,  in  my  further  Re- 
marks upon  this  Article,  go  back  to  the 
Old  Italian  Theatre,  when  Fari- 
nelli  drew  every  Body  to  the  Hay- 
market.  What  a  Pipe  !  What  Modula- 
tion !  What  Extafy  to  the  Ear  !  But, 
Heavens  !  What  Clumfinefs  !  What  Stu- 
pidity !  What  Offence  to  the  Eye  ! 

Reader,  if  of  the  City,  thou  mayeft 
probably  have  feen  in  the  Fields  of  IJ- 
Ungton  or  Mile-End \  or,  if  thou  art  with- 
in the  Environs  of  St.  James's,  thou  muft 
have  obferved  in  the  Park,  with  what 
Eafe  and  Agility  a  Cow,  heavy  with 
Calf,  has  rofe  up  at  the  Command  of  the 
Milk-woman's  Foot :  Thus  from  the  mof- 
fy  Bank  fprung  up  the  Divine  Fari- 
nelli. 

Then  with  long  ftrides  advancing  a 
few  Paces,  his  left  Hand  fettled  upon  his 
Hip,  in  a  beautiful  Bend,  like  that  of  the 
Handle  of  an  oldfaflmnd  Caudle-Cap,  his 
Right  remained  immoveable  acrofs  his 
manly  Breaft,  'till  Numbnefs  called  its 
Partner  to  fupply  the  Place  ;  when,  it  re- 
lieved 


[  64  ] 

lieved  itfelf  in  the  Pofition  of  the  other 
Handle  to  the  Caudle-Cup, 

'Twas  well  for  this  tuneful  Exotic, 
that  the  Generality  of  his  Audience  were 
more  ready  to  extinguish  one  Senfe  to  gra- 
tify another,  than  I,  attached  as  I  am  to 
mufical  Merit,  could  fuffer  myfelf  to  be. 
Otherwife,  this  Amphion,  more  potent 
than  him  of  Thebes,  had  never  drawn 
together  the  richejl  Stones  of  India  ;  nor 
received,  from  fome  of  the  faireft  Hands 
in  England,  Boxes  ennobled  with  thofe 
expenfive  Productions  of  Nature,  and  ren- 
der'd  more  valuable,  by  including  Notes 
upon  the  Bank  for  iooo  /.  each.  Such, 
as  I  have  heard,  were  the  Offerings  of 
that  Day  to  the  tuneful,  fee-faw  Clumfi- 
nefs  of  this  Divinity. 

At  the  fame  Time,  on  the  fame  Stage, 
and  in  the  fame  Operas,  fhone  forth  in 
full  Excellence  of  "Theatrical  Exprejion, 
the  graceful,  the  correal,  the  varied  De- 
portment of  Senesino.  Farinelli  had 
ftole  the  Ears,  but  Senesino  won  the 
Eyes  of  the  Houfe ;  that  Part  of  it,  I  mean, 
who  were  not  Mujic-mad. 

Thrice, 


[65] 

Thrice,  in  a  fhort  Interval  of  Time^ 
have  I  feen  this  mafterly  Actor,  in  the 
Opera  of  Artaxerxes:  And  eighteen 
Years  have  not  obliterated  the  full  Re- 
membrance of  that  great  but  natural  Man- 
ner of  his  Deportment  in  a  Scene,  which 
called  for  the  Exertion  of  almoft  every 
Paflion.  He  perfonated  the  Father,  of  a 
Son,  who  had,  in  the  Extravagance  of 
Duty  and  Affection,  taken  upon  himfelf 
his  Father's  Guilt,  and  was  chearfully 
fubmitting  to  bear  capital  Punifhment  in 
his  Stead. 

It  happen'd  in  this  Opera,  which  fel- 
dom  is  to  be  met  with  in  Italian  Dra- 
matic Compofitions,  that  the  Author 
had  tolerably  acquitted  himfelf  in  a  Soli- 
loquy of  the  Fathers,  defcriptive  of  the 
Tortu  es  his  Son  was  to  fuffer  in  his 
Place. 

Confin'd,  as  he  was,  to  the  Meafures 
of  Recitative  and  Song,  Senesino  went 
thro'  the  Struggles  of  Nature  agitated  to 
excels,  with  furprifing  Execution  -,  and, 
(which  I  hope  will  fave  me  from  the 
Charge  of  impertinent  Digreflion)  a  Va» 

K  riety 


[66] 

riety   of  ExpreJJion,    each   of   the   three 
Nights  I  faw  him  in  that  Character. 

SECT,  the  Last. 

Of  Behaviour,    under   the   Cenfure  w 
Applaufe  of  the  Audience. 

I  Mention  this,  not  fo  much  as  a  Part 
of  'Theatrical  Merit,  as  of  Theatrical 
Prudence  ;  which,  if  not  attended  to,  may 
do  the  Actor  great  Prejudice  in  the  Opi- 
nion of  the  Public. 

If  he  appears  injenfible  to  their  Cenfures, 
they  fet  him  down  as  a  Man  too  partial  to 
himfelf ;  if  haughty  and  indignant,  they 
mark  him  out  as  one  to  be  humbled  j  if  he 
feel  Rebuke  too  Jlrongly,  he  is  damp'd  for 
the  Night,  and  his  Auditory  impute  his 
fubfequent  difpirited  Action  to  his  want 
of  Judgment  to  go  through  with  his  Cha- 
racter. 

Prefcription  for  this   lies  in   a  narrow 

Compafs.     I  would  not  advife  a  Tragic- 

Aflor   to  Mr.   Wilks   his  Expedient,    of 

•  turning  a  China-Orange  Pulp,  thrown  in 

Levity 


£  67] 

Levity  or  Refentment,  into  a  Seville-one  *, 
but  perhaps  a  modeft  Inclination  of  the 
Head  and  Body,  at  an  Interval  that  breaks 
not  into  the  Profecution  of  his  Part,  may 
win  off  the  Cenfure  of  his  Audience  into 
open  Encouragement. 

1  own  it  hard  for  a  judicious  Actor  to 
ftoop  to  the  Reprimands  of  the  Ignorant 
Galleries,  and  a  petulant ,  perhaps,  a  Par- 
ty-formed Pit :  But  the  SubmirTion  pro- 
pofed  to  him  is  too  flight  to  be  boggled  at 
in  a  Cafe  of  Extremity. 

Applaufe,  it  may  be  thought,  requires 
no  Precaution  to  the  Aclor  :  More,  per- 
haps, than  Cen/ure.  'Tis  the  fame  in 
Theatrical  as  in  private  Life ;  Pride  and 
Elevation  are,  almoft,  Infeperable  Com- 
panions ;  and  the  Man  who  thinks  his 
Character  is  ejlablljljed,  may  play  away  the 
Merit  which  is  neceflary  to  fupport  it. 

Applaufe  is  frequently  bellowed  in  the 
Theatre  with  as  little  Judgment,  as  Cen- 
fure ;  and  as  every  Evening  brings  together 
a  new  Audience,  differently  difpofed  and 
qualified  from  that  of  the  preceding,  we 
often  find  the  fame  Play  very  differently 
K  2  received. 


[  68  ] 

received.  Should  an  After,  therefore, 
plume  himfelf  upon  fuch  curfory  Indica- 
tions of  popular  Favour  j  grow  Self-fuffi- 
cient ;  remifs  in  his  Action  j  and  think 
all  Study  for  further  Improvement  unne- 
ceilary  -}  he  will  infallibly  link  into  abfo^ 
lute  Contempt  and  Difgrace. 

But, further:  Should  modefty  and  Dis- 
cernment preferve  the  Actor  from  making 
fo  fatal  an  Application  of  the  public  Fa- 
vour, it  may  affect  him  in  another  manner 
lefs  eafy  to  be  guarded  againft,  To  be 
pleafed  at  the  Approbation  we  meet  with 
is  natural  and  proper  :  No  Actor  can  be 
infenfible  of  it.  But,  if  his  Pleafure  rife 
fo  high  as  to  dijjipate  or  break  into  thofe 
Ideas  by  which  he  mould  fupport  the  Cha- 
racter he  is  reprefenting,  he  will  be  as 
much  difconcerted,  as  if  he  had  met  with 
an  equal  IVLafure  of  Cenfure  j  with  this 
Difference  only  :  In  the  latter  Cafe  he'd 
be  at  a  Lofs  to  a  El  up  to  his  Part,  in  this 
he  would  run  the  Hazard  of  over- doing  it, 


JHE 


[69] 


THE 

APPENDIX. 

HITHERTO  we  have  attempted 
to  reprefent  how  far  the  Delicacy 
of  Theatrical  Exprssion  depends  up. 
on  the  Attor. 

For  this  Place  is  referved  a  modeft  Ap- 
plication to  the  Managers  and  the 
Town  :  Each  of  whom  has  fo  much  In- 
fluence upon  Theatrical  Expression, 
that,  without  their  Concurrence,  Better* 
ton,  Booth)  Wiiks,  Cibber>  &c.  and,  at 
the  Date  of  thefe  Prefents,  *  *  *  *,  and 
a  long  &c :  Among  the  Men  j  as  alfo 
the  Mef dames  of  the  la  ft  Theatre,  and  the 
Me/dames  of  the  prefent,  would  have 
found  their  Theatrical  Capacities  lefs  evi- 
dent to  the  Spectators. 

I  pretend  to  no  Knowledge  of  the 
Theatre  behind  the  Curtain.  On  that  ac- 
count, 


[  7°  ] 

count,  I  think  it  great  Ill-manners  to  call 
in  Queftion  the  Manager's  Conduct,  as 
to  receiving  or  dij car  ding  new  Plays  ;  ad- 
mitting or  rejecting  frefh  Candidates  for  the 
Stage :  Their  Impartiality  to  Recommen- 
dations, and  their  treating  their  middle- 
rank'd  Actors  with  the  utmoft  Compla- 
cence. I  am  the  rather  inclined  to  think 
thus,  becaufe,  fince  public  Inquifitions, 
Orations,  &c.  have  been  fet  up,  the  chief 
Complaints  on  thefe  Points,  have  come 
from  thofe  Quarters  where  every  Man 
may  find  Ears  in  plenty. 

Whereas,  neglected  Merit  is  Jilent , 
or,  if  obliged  to  complain,  modejl. 

But,  the  Curtain,  once  drawn  up,  (af- 
ter which  no  Money  is  refunded)  the 
Spectator  has  a  Right  to  judge  of  the 
whole  Oeconomy  of  the  'Theatre. 

Should  the  Parts  be  wrong  Cajl  *,  thofe, 
before  the  Curtain,  unlefs  Novices  in  the 
Theatre,  perceive  it  directly  ;  grow  fullen 
and  difappointed ;   and,    when    a  capital 

*  A  Theatrical  Term,  for  giving  each  Part  or 
Cbaracler  in  the  Play,  to  the  Perfon,  to  whom,  in 
all  Points,  it  is  beftfuited. 

Actor 


f  7'  ] 

Actor  comes  in,  receive  him  with  not 
half  the  Satisfaction  and  Approbation,  he 
deferves ;  becaufe  he  has  not  proper  Coun- 
ter-AElors  to  fet  him  off.  Thus,  will  the 
Delicacy  of  Theatrical  Expression 
fuffer,  if  the  Manager,  be  his  Motive 
what  it  will,  does  not  cafi  his  Parts 
right. 

I  have,  and  will  avoid  Particulars ;  for 
I  mean  to  sive  not  the  leaft  Difeuft.  to 
thofe,  who  are  at  incejjant  Thought  to 
pleafe  the  Town. 

I  fuppofe,  'twill  not  be  Jingular  to 
fay,  that  Actors  may  grow  out  of  Figure , 
though  not  out  of  Merit. 

A  worthy  Man  (as  far  as  I  have  heard) 
and  a  correct  Speaker,  (as  far  as  I  can 
judge)  appears,  in  a  Swan-wing  Peruke, 
to  perfonate,  at  the  Age  of — ,  a  young 
Gentleman.  Is  this  cafiing  the  Part 
right  ?  Iago  he  will  properly  perfonate  as 
long  as  he  can  fpeak. 

My  Regard  for  Mrs.  P —  runs  fo  high, 
that  I  wifh  I  may  feldom  fee  her  upon 
the  Stage,  but  in  the  Character  of  a 
Dowager   of  Difiinfiion^   in   which,  and 

Jimilar 


[7*1 

fonilar  Parts,  fhe  will  long  continue,  the 
Satisfaction  of  the  Town. 

I  have  Reafon  to  think,  (flender  as  my 
Acquaintance  with  the  Theatre  is)  that, 
in  cafiing  the  Parts,  the  Manager  is  not 
entirely  to  blame.  Aft  or  s,  of  Confequencey 
will  not  eafily  fubmit  to  his,  or,  perhaps, 
to  the  Advice  of  a  judicious  Rehearfal. 

But  I  cannot  conceive,  how  thofe,  con- 
nected in  a  common  Interefl  to  pleafe  the 
Public  i  how  thofe,  who  have  any  Merit 
with  the  Public,  can  think  they  degrade 
themfelves  by  perfonating,  if  the  Excel- 
lence of  Theatrical  Expression  de- 
pends upon  a  due  Support  of  the  Under- 
Parts,  a  Character  fomewnat  beneath  the 
Plume  and  Truncheon  ;  provided  that  the 
Town  is  pleajed.  If  p leafed,  they  ap- 
prove j  and  pay  an  additional  Regard  to 
the  Actor,  who  condefcends  to  appear  in 
lower  Parts,  that  the  Drama  may  be  re- 
prefented  with  Spirit. 

'Tis  alfo  the  Managers  Part  to  fet 
off,  in  Point  off  Dress,  the  Actors  Per- 
formance: And,  as  has  been  obferved,  he 
little  confults  his  own  true  Intereft,  if  he 

does 


[73  ]      ' 

does  not. — The  Aft  or,  if  he  has  any  Senfe, 
feels  a  Neglect  of  this  kind  fo  far,  as 
never  to  get  above  the  Idea  of  being  the 
Manager's  Dependant:  How  will  a 
Manager's  Dependant  command  the  Paf- 
fions  of  the  Audience ! 

The  Spectators  will  be  prejudiced  a- 
gainft  him,  upon  the  Prefumption,  that 
were  his  Merit  deferving  of  better-fitted 
Ckaths,  the  Managers  would  have  taken 
more  Care  about  them. 

But  I  fhall  lay  thefe  Kinds  of  Chech  to 
'Theatrical  ExpreJJion,  under  the  Article  of 
Saving  Oeconomy. 

It  requires  not  an  Admittance  to  the 
Theatres  Account-Books,  to  know  that  the 
moil  trivial  Article  in  their  Eftablifhment 
runs  high  -,  and  that  a  diligent  Eye  muft 
be  had  to  every  Point  of  Saving :  But, 
perhaps,  the  Saving-Part  may  be  placed 
where,  all  things  confidered,  it  may  turn 
out  not  quite  fo  recruiting  to  the  Thea- 
TRicAL-Che/l.  This  will  certainly  be  the 
Event,  if  the  ncceflary  Ornaments  are 
niggardly  beftowed  upon  capital  Perfor- 

L  mances 


» 


[74] 

mances,   and   lavifid  away  unneceffarily 
upon  others,  more  Inferior. 

To  fet  off  one  of  Shake/pears  fiewy 
Plays,  what  a  Prof uf on  of "Lace  and  £/» 
broidery  do  we  find  among  the  Dumb- 
Courtiers  ?  And  what  Senfation  does  this 
Expence  occafion  to  the  Spectators  $  A 
very  difagreeable  one.  We  fee  the  infe- 
rior Part  of  the  Court  like  a  Monmouth- 
Street  Regiment  5  the  Speaking-Lords  in- 
deed are  as  Brilliant,  as  the  laft  French-cut 
can  make  them;  but  the  King  and  his 
Beef-eaters  are  the  only  Men  drejid  to 
the  77zȣ. 

Why  are  not  all  our  Plays  drejid  in 
Character  in  Point  of  77/;^  and  P/#rc  ? 
Would  it  be  more  expenfive  to  the  Ma- 
nagers? I  aver,  not.  Let  the  Plot  lie 
in  whatever  Country  it  will  (proper  for 
the  Theatre)  the  chief  of  the  Natives 
Expence  in  Drefs  lies  in  Jewels  :  The 
reft  is  flimfy  Cloqtb,  Silk,  or  Sattin  j  which, 
with  the  flight  Lace  about  them,  coft  not, 
at  fir  ft,  I  believe,  fo  much  as  the  Second- 
hand Clcaths  of  our  Theatres.     Jewels  of 

the 


f  7S1 

the  Theatrical-Water  may  eafily  be  come 
at,  and  will  not  tarnifh  or  mildew  like 
Lace  or  Cloath ;  but  have  this  additional 
Recommendation,  that  they  equally  fit 
every  Wearer. 

It  is  obvious,  beyond  reply,  what  croud- 
ed  Houfe*  indifferent  Plays  will  draw,  if 
the  Characters  are  drefied  in  the  National- 
Mode ',  where  the  Scene  is  laid.  I  cannot, 
therefore,  but  think  it  ill-judged  Oeco- 
nomy,  to  be  fparing  in  an  Article  that 
contributes  fo  much  to  the  Elegance  of 
Theatrical  Expression. 

The  Manager's  Judgment  and  Taft  • 
the  Actor's  Spirit  and  Execution ;  and 
the  Curiofity^  Attention  and  Approbation 
of  the  Spectators,  are  fo  much  affedl- 
ed  by  it;  that  the  Theatres  would  foon 
find  themfelves  availed  by  paying  a  ftrict 
Regard  to  it. 

Scenery  we  prefume  is  allowed  to  have 
a  very  interefting  Effect  upon  Theatri- 
cal Expression  :  Some  Particulars  in 
which  ijt  has,  have  been  already  men- 
tioned. 

L  2     <  Pan'o- 


'[76] 

Pantomine-Exprejjion  (the  Expence  of 
which  I  could  wifli  the  Theatres  were 
eas'd  of)  has  all  the  Advantage  of  this 
kind  lavifh'd  upon  it  that  can  be  expect- 
ed ;  and  the  Managers  of  our  Theatres 
deferve  the  Thanks  of  the  Town,  for 
their  great  Expence  in  Canvas  and  Taint 
to  pleafe  their  Tart.  Shall  then  thefc  Or- 
na?nents  be  lefs  attended  to,  when  the 
Promotion  of  a  more  noble  Kind  of  Thea- 
trical Exprejjion  is  concern'd  ? 

I  am  not  extravagant  enough  to  propofc 
that  a  new  Set  of  Scenes  mould  be  pro- 
duced at  every  new  Tragedy  j  I  mean  only 
that  that  there  mould  never  be  fuch  a 
Scarcity  of  Scenes  in  the  Theatre,  but, 
that,  whether  the  Seat  of  Action  be 
Greek,  Roman,  Afiatic,  African,  Italian, 
Spanijh,  &c  :  There  may  be  one  Set,  at 
leaft,  adapted  to  each  Country ;  and  that 
we,  the  Spectators,  may  not  be  put  upon 
to  believe  ourfelves  abroad,  when  we  have 
no  local  Imagery  before  us,  but  that  of 
our  own  Country. 

The 


[77] 

The  Appointment  of  the  Pieces  of 
Mufic  between  the  A6is  in  Tragedy ',  de- 
serves, I  apprehend,  a  great  deal  of  the 
Manager's  Attention  ;  or  (if  he  is  no 
judge  of  Mufic)  of  fuch  of  his  Council, 
who  are.  Its  preparatory  Effect  upon 
the  Paflio?is,  throughout  all  Antiquity,  is 
too  trite  a  Subject  to  be  defcanted  upon. 

With  due  Submiflion,  is  it  fit  that  one 
Ac~l  of  deep  Diflrefs,  and  another,  where 
that  Dijirefs  heightens,  mould  be  feparated 
by  an  Allegro  Compofition  ?  Or  that  the 
Fifth,  which  often  places  us  in  the  midll 
of  Battle,  Blood/bed,  and  Terror,  mould 
be  introduced  by  a  German-Flute  Piece, 
with  the  Piano  under-accompanyments  ? 
This  is  too  common  to  need  any 
Apology  for  mentioning  it.  It  muft  be 
added  too,  that  the  Bell  of  one  Houfe  ge- 
nerally  rings  in  the  Middle  of  a  Strain ; 
to  the  utter  Deftruction  of  the  beft  Piece 
of  Mufic  upon  Earth,  and  to  the  Confu- 
iion  of  thofe,  who,  by  attending  to  the 
Orchejlra,  were  endeavouring  to  keep  their 
Ideas  in  due  Order  to  preferve  the  Con- 
nection 


[78  ] 

nccYion  of  Theatrical  Expression  to 
the  End  of  the  Play. 

We  now  beg  leave  to  intimate  to  the 
Town,  that  the  Excellence  of  Theatri- 
cal Expression  has  great  Dependance 
upon  their  Conduct. 

Who  would  conceive,  that  thofe,  who 
pay  their  Shilling  ;  much  lefs,  thofe  who 
produce  two  for  Theatrical  Entertaiment ; 
had  not  fomething  like  a  Tail,  or  Defire 
to  be  quietly  gratified!  But  what  inter- 
rupting Infolence  do  we  meet  with  from 
the  Galleries  almoft  during  the  whole  Per- 
formance !  Infolence !  that  nothing  but 
the  Military  and  Peace-Officer  can  cor- 
rect j  as  I  hope  it  mofl  rigoroufly  will. 

I  have  nothing  to  fay  to  the  Green- 
Boxes,  whofe  Deportment  is  always  as 
regular  in  public,  as  in  private  :  And  what 
can  1  fay  to  the  Pit ;  the  Grand- Academy 
of  Theatrical  Science  ? 

One  would  expect  from  this  Area  of 
Criticifm,  which  feveral  Men  of  Fortune 
frequent,  good  Manners,  mutual  Accom- 
modation as  to  Room,  and  zfilent  Attention 

to 


[79] 

to  what  is  going  forward  upon  the  Stage, 
But  the  Breeding  of  Porters,  and  the  St- 
lence  of  Fijhwomen,  is  fuperior  to  what  I 
have,  fometimes,  obferved  in  this  Part  of 
the  Theatre, 

SelfiJJmefs,  as  to  Room  upon  the  Ben- 
ches, is  carried  to  fuch  brutal  Excefs, 
that,  at  a  Diftance  too  great  to  offer  my 
Relief,  I  have  feen  Women  of  genteel 
Deportment,  modefl  and  agreeable  Fi- 
gures, fuffered  to  {rand  the  whole  Even- 
ing, without  receiving  the  leafl  Accom- 
modation from  twenty  well-drefs'd  Fel- 
lows, who  were  near  enough  to  Compli- 
ment them  with  their  Seats. 

Crouding ,  jojlling  ,  di '/pitting  aloud  y 
wrangling,  nay  even  quarrelling  are  fre- 
quent; and  as  a  Circle  will  neceffarily  be 
gathered  upon  fuch  impertinent  Occafions, 
the  Drama  fuffers  greatly  in  its  Reprefen- 
tation,  from  thefe  Diforders. 

I  mail  think  the  few  Hours  I  have  be- 
llowed upon  thefe  Papers  very  well  laid 
out,  if  they  mould  any  ways  contribute 
to  bring  this  important  Part  of  the  Houfe 

to 


t  So] 

to  Order.  But  as  I  am  not  very  fanguine, 
as  to  the  Number  of  Hands  thefe  Reflec- 
tion* may  fall  into,  nor,  indeed,  as  to  the 
Reception  they  may  meet  with;  I  hope 
(for  the  Defect  is  not  general)  the  politer 
Part  of  the  Pit  will  fave  the  Play  from 
being  interrupted,  by  kicking  out  the  Fel- 
low who  prefumes  to  be  infolent,  without 
any  Confideration  of  his  Rank  and  Cir- 
cumftances  without  Doors. 

My  Refpect  for  the  two  brightejl,  and, 
which  is  more,  fairejl  Female  Circles  in 
any  Theatre  extant,  makes  me  hefitate  to 
mention  what  Prejudice  the  Drama  re- 
ceives from  the  Boxes, 

It  muft,  undoubtedly,  be  from  Inad- 
vertency, that  the  Ladies  carry  on  their 
Converfations  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by 
a  great  Part  of  the  Pit  -,  and,  in  the 
Boxes  nearerl:  the  Stage,  by  the  Actors 
themfelves.  Should  thefe  Reflections  have 
the  Honour  to  fall  into  any  of 'their  Hands, 
I  am  fure  their  Delicacy  will  make  any 
farther  Application  unneceffary. 


No 


[  8i  ] 

^owmonjlrance,  I  doubt,  will  prevail 
upon  the    S?narts  who  oblige  the  Town 
wil"b  their  whole  Lengths  at  the  Side-Scenes, 
fa  lake  thti  r  pretty  Figures  away.     To 
he  IdlSL  ftat  "  they  take  off  the  Effe  St  of 
« tf-jc  Sctnsry  j  that  they   #;#£?   #  motly 
uyjGvn  e  among  Attors  drefs'd  in  Cha- 
11 -ratter;  that  they  difcompofe  the   P^r- 
"  -fiirmers'by  flopping  up  their  £«/ry  and 
u"E$ref$3  that   they  interrupt  the  Dra- 
''-/*«.  fyt&eir  giggling  and  grimace ;  that 
"  2/x  wfole  H<?#/<?  looks  upon  them  as  a 
*•  Nwfance,  and  the  more  difcerning  Part 
"  as  Coxcombs ;"  would,  one  would  think, 
flame  them  into  Decency  and  Retirement  : 
But  Succejs,  perhaps,  is  not  to  be  expect- 
ed from  any  Appeal  to  Modesty. 


FINIS. 


r  >r 


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